


The Curious Case of Iwaizumi Hajime

by redbirb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bar Owner!Iwaizumi, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, I swear theres at least a little plot, Love at First Sight, M/M, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Off Screen Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, also theres some side romances, basically oikawa and iwaizumi are in love and dont know what to do, side relationships to be added as story progresses, tags to be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbirb/pseuds/redbirb
Summary: Iwaizumi listens to the woes of his customers, breaks up some bar fights and deals with a persistent flirter.-Some of them look young and Iwaizumi knows he’ll have to check every ID if he wants to avoid any underage shenanigans. Since everyone else is occupied, Iwaizumi excuses himself from the bar to approach the table with pen and notepad in hand. The closer he gets, the more detail he can take in of the group. Six young men look up at him when he comes close enough, most wearing friendly smiles. The one that catches his attention is the guy with soft-looking styled chocolate hair, his smile blinding, chin neatly rested on folded hands.He’s beautiful, is Iwaizumi’s first thought, so sudden and sharp like a slap across the face. It makes him pause, blinking back at the eyes that watch him shrewdly.“Going to take our orders, Mr. Goo-Goo eyes?”





	1. CHAPTER ONE : IWAIZUMI [1]

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a Haikyuu series despite already having two ongoing series in another fandom. Why do I do this to myself?
> 
> This idea started with wondering how Iwaizumi would be as a bar owner and Oikawa coming in to flirt with him incessantly. This was written with a lot more feelings involved and a little bit of a dramatic but small plot. Please enjoy!

Being a bar owner is more difficult than most people anticipate. For Iwaizumi Hajime it was the dream, the thing he saved as much money for as he could when he was out of highschool, broke, and bailed out of his budding physical therapist career. His parents learned to accept his dreams and in the fall on a windy afternoon, Iwaizumi signed his name on a piece of paper buying Irihata’s bar.

The bar stood for twenty-five years under Irihata’s care and maintained with hard work and the diligence of a proud owner. But as the saying goes, as soon as a flower blooms, it begins to wilt. Iwaizumi used the rest of his money to fix up the holes here and there, replacing the tattered bar stools, installing a new sleek black countertop then donning a mask for his face as he cleaned from floor to ceiling with his bare hands. He’d been hard pressed to rename the place, but in the end, with Irihata’s blessing, he’d settled on Seijoh, a rearrangement of its previous name Aobajohsai. A new sign accompanied the name, a bottle with a thin green vine poking out tailed by a leaf painted on its front, hanging above the door ; he was so proud of the result, commissioning a friend, Watari, to do the job.

The last little detail Iwaizumi needed to take care of was employees. Older employees such as Nekomata took the opportunity to retire, moving on to do more with his family and life as an old man. Iwaizumi was sad to see him go, but Ukai stuck around even after his old boss left and was kind enough to help with help wanted ads and calling in a couple of former employees as potential candidates.

This was how Saeko became a regular bartender again, charismatic enough to convince new faces to return and familiar enough with older patrons to keep them from migrating to somewhere new. The new recruits were more trouble trying to integrate into the steady stream of customers that were circulating the first month the bar was reopened. Saeko and Ukai made for a formidable duo, together they trained a full team out of the new hires, keeping the bar a bustling, well-served establishment.

Yaku’s experience came from restaurant managing, taking orders and serving as instinctual as breathing and was also adept at organizing employees to keep every table covered, every customer timely handed their order. Yaku had a disastrous beginning with bartender training, but worked the hardest at learning which was nothing short of admirable. He was Iwaizumi’s favorite, although that was a tight-lipped admittance as imbalance between employee and boss was a caution Iwaizumi took seriously.

Kuroo was the opposite. He was reliable when it came to pouring drinks and chatting up customers, giving surprisingly good advice to the ones that expressed their woes. His smirk was annoying and his cackling laugh was too loud to Iwaizumi’s ears, but he was the only new hire with complete bartender experience. He’d worked in some shady establishments, mostly bars, and been fired for hustling at pool tables at a prior job. Iwaizumi gave him a chance and while he’d been side-eyeing Kuroo for the first month, they had built a strong trust and respect for one another since then. The only lingering concern was some of the visitors that came to the bar, acquaintances of Kuroo’s in one way or another, but as long as they didn’t cause any trouble, Iwaizumi would let it slide.

The most reliable was Daichi, closely followed by his partner, Suga. They’d handed their resumes in together and both showed up for their interviews with an identical, no-argument requirement upon hiring : same schedule as the other so they could work together. At first Iwaizumi was confused, but after a lengthy discussion with Daichi, he learned that this was their way of keeping their free time to themselves without differing schedules tearing them apart. Skeptical, he’d thought to refuse until Saeko suggested to let them test run it, that things would have to change if it didn’t work out. Shockingly enough it was better than expected, watching them both learn bartending quickly and working in tandem with an efficiency that rivaled the senior bartenders Saeko and Ukai. Anytime there was a callout, one or both were available, and the two were companionable with staff and patrons alike.

Three years later, everything was fine. Iwaizumi ran his bar, his employees remained loyal to his dream and he was overall content with life.

“Lev!” He heard Yaku squawk in anger. “Break one more plate and I’m putting you on mop duty for the rest of your shift!”

Iwaizumi sighs. He steps into his office and flops into a desk chair, already rubbing his forehead as a growing headache begins to throb. He’d hired two new busboys hoping the extra hands would help on busier nights like the weekends. Lev was a tall, half-russian with long limbs that could reach the highest shelf in the broom closet without a ladder, but like a baby deer learning to walk, made messes wherever he went. Hinata was bright and energetic, eager to learn and while Iwaizumi admired that, he was the least experienced among the staff. The college students were giving them all a little hell, but none of them felt giving up was the way to go, continuing with training and trying to be patient.

“You okay, boss?”

“Yes. No. Maybe when Lev stops breaking every dish he touches.” Iwaizumi looks up to Saeko leaning in the doorway. “Tell me you have good news.”

“Well,” her voice sang, holding up a hand and ticking off a finger each as she listed off,” we’re out of hand soap for the bathrooms, we’re out of clean glasses, Kuroo is going to be late and Yaku is close to strangling our favorite Russian Goofy. Oh, and I’m taking my twenty minute break now.”

“Fun,” he drily replies.

Saeko only offers a small, but sincere smile, apologetic. He doesn’t blame her, let’s her take whatever peace she can get while chained to the bar serving countless patrons who range from polite and respectful to loud and over-friendly. He wishes he could catch a break too.

Iwaizumi marches out with a determined stride, sliding behind the bar as he catches Yaku’s eye. “I want you to send Lev on a supply run for hand soap and focus on working the kitchen.”

“Where’s Kuroo?”

“Gonna be late.” Iwaizumi is finally left to the bar by himself, greeting a few older men he recognized. Pleasant conversation ensued, bellowing laughter following close behind. It’s while pouring one of the men another whiskey that the chime of the door sounds and a group of people file in, talking animatedly.

Some of them look young and Iwaizumi knows he’ll have to check every ID if he wants to avoid any underage shenanigans. Since everyone else is occupied, Iwaizumi excuses himself from the bar to approach the table with pen and notepad in hand. The closer he gets, the more detail he can take in of the group. Six young men look up at him when he comes close enough, most wearing friendly smiles. The one that catches his attention is the guy with soft-looking styled chocolate hair, his smile blinding, chin neatly rested on folded hands.

 _He’s beautiful_ , is Iwaizumi’s first thought, so sudden and sharp like a slap across the face. It makes him pause, blinking back at the eyes that watch him shrewdly.

“Going to take our orders, Mr. Goo-Goo eyes?”

His head whips to the person on the, ahem, dreamy guy’s right. He’s got caterpillar eyebrows and a shit-eating grin plastered on his lips. Iwaizumi clears his throat and stands up straighter, ignoring the heat blossoming rapidly on his face. He hasn’t been caught drooling over an alluring stranger, of course not, he’d just been assessing the new faces.

“I’ll have to check IDs.”

“Aw man,” whines a pink hair dyed individual next to Caterpillar Brows,” I heard this was a **_cool_** bar.”

“This is a cool bar,” Iwaizumi counters, clearly unfazed. “A cool bar that is responsible enough not to allow impressionable kids to get alcohol poisoning.”

There’s a snort from Prince Charming, but Iwaizumi shifts his gaze quickly to the three youngest looking companions. One has hair up in a hair-sprayed spike, the style reminding him of Vegeta from the _Dragonball_ series. The one on the right of Turnip Head is a bored, yawning figure slouched in a leathered seat, looking more teenager than anybody else at the table. The one on the left appears carefree and amused, gazing back at Iwaizumi with a raised brow. After a beat of awaiting silence, everyone digs through their pockets and holds out their IDs.

Iwaizumi takes his time with each one, inspecting thoroughly as he reads and catalogs information. He finds that they are all of age, if some just barely. Turnip Head is Kindaichi, Kunimi is the babyface and Yahaba is the humored one. He finds that Caterpillar Brows is Matsukawa and Pinky is Hanamaki, both taking their IDs back with mischievous grins. He reaches for the last ID, heart pounding, avoiding eye contact as his eyes soak in the name printed.

Oikawa Tooru. Iwaizumi is tempted to test the name on his lips, taste it on his tongue. His focus darts to the picture of a sweet smile, intense hazel eyes and that dark-chocolate brown hair. Slowly his eyes shift up to the real person who is watching him, gaze burning heat into Iwaizumi’s core, melting him to the spot, unwillingly at first to pull away.

Hearing the clatter of a fork hitting the floor snaps him out of his trance, pushing the ID closer to the dreamboat’s - Oikawa’s face who takes it back between two fingers without looking away. Iwaizumi swallows and refocuses on the notepad in his other hand, retrieving the pen from a back pocket and mumbling about taking orders. He scribbles madly, ignoring the itch to trade the sight of messy scrawling on white paper for the dazzling hazel observing his every movement.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he says, dipping his head at the group.

“Oh, we know,” snickers Matsukawa.

Iwaizumi has nothing to offer as a counter strike so he retreats back behind the bar and into the kitchen. He slumps down the wall next to the door, dragging a hand down his face in utter dismal embarrassment.

Yaku peeks his head over a shoulder where he’d been washing some dishes, brow raised. “Alright there, boss?”

“Peachy,” Iwaizumi mumbles into the meat of his palm.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he fishes it out to check the message. It’s a text from Kuroo and Iwaizumi lets out a frustrated breath through his nose.

From: **Kuroo T.**  
[ _sorry boss cant make it_ ]

“Just fucking peachy.”

\---

“The hell happened to you?”

Yaku’s voice draws everyone’s attention that morning while opening the bar and all eyes land on Kuroo walking in the door, or rather the black eye he’s sporting and cleaned up busted lip. Iwaizumi’s eye twitches as he can fathom what kind of situation lands a guy with bruises like that.

A grin stretches the cut on his lip as Kuroo says,” Had a little argument to settle.”

“Is this the reason why you couldn’t show up last night?” It’s said with an icy, clipped tone, unamused and accusatory.

Kuroo has the decency to look abashed this time. “I didn’t plan it, honestly.”

“You missed it,” Saeko says, conspiratorial while glancing at Iwaizumi. “Boss got all tongue-tied because of a pretty boy that came in last night.”

Iwaizumi feels his face burn, glaring at Saeko and her betrayal. Before he can say anything, however, Kuroo latches onto the subject change like a leech, grin wide as he curiously looks between the two. “Pretty boy, you say? I thought he said he wasn’t interested in anybody.”

“I’m not,” he snaps, embarrassment still heavy on his shoulders,” and I meant it when I said I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“You were staring.”

Iwaizumi gapes at Yaku, caught between annoyance and disbelief at being outed by the one person he thought would have his back. He ignores Kuroo’s wheezing laughter at his expense. “I wasn’t -”

“You were.” A pointed, unwavering look silences anymore protest. “He freaked out in the kitchen then kept stumbling around while trying to serve them and manage the bar.”

“I came back to him drooling at the bar like a lovesick fool.” Saeko cackles as she wipes down the bar counter getting ready for opening. She has no qualms teasing and poking fun at her boss, posing as the older sister type.

Iwaizumi resists the urge to wipe his mouth as if he’d been drooling just at the thought of seeing Oikawa Tooru again. “You’re all ridiculous. You make it sound like I’m some kind of stalker.”

“You were polishing the same glass for three minutes while sneaking peeks at their table.”

“Enough of this and finish wiping everything down!” He stomps his way to his office, deep frown marking his lips.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Kuroo.” He hears Yaku’s voice from the hallway.

“I’m hurt,” comes the snarky reply,” give me a break. Don’t you see I’m a wounded man? Or are you concerned for me? Aww, that’s so sweet.”

“I’m about to give you a matching black eye.”

Iwaizumi shuts them out by closing his office door, back to slumping into his desk chair and leaning his head back, eyes staring at the ceiling. Last night had been the hardest night of his life, although he wasn’t going to admit that outloud where his employees could hear and fuel their incessant taunting. He’d been so distracted he was nearly useless at the bar and in constant distress both near and away from the table where his thoughts kept wandering.

Begrudgingly, Iwaizumi had to admit to at least himself that he’d gone through a sort of love at first sight emotional rollercoaster. He couldn’t tear his eyes away for long, drawn by the stranger whose eyes scorched his skin whenever they swept across him, beckoning Iwaizumi to join his side, to part the patrons and yield his attention to one man. It had ate away at him the whole night, gnawing at the pit of his stomach any time he had to turn away.

Prince Charming had drawn other attention too. Girls at the bar swarmed the table once they caught sight of him, asking pointless questions, soaking in his laughter and smile, the good-humored jokes he’d flung at them with a honey-dipped voice. He clearly enjoyed the attention, dragging on the contact for however long until one of his friends elbowed him and he shooed them all away. However, throughout the night their eyes kept meeting, Oikawa evidently wasn’t going to just banish his hold on Iwaizumi even if he scowled or resisted.

He’d gotten a wave and sizeable tip from the table as well as a chorus of gratitudes… and a note on the check receipt with a phone number and winky face scribbled on in neat handwriting. Iwaizumi had gone home that night with it carefully folded in his pocket, plagued by reruns of every interaction they’d had at the bar. It was maddening, it was all he could think about. How could one man get into his head so quickly, sticking to his mind with no way to scrape him out?

Iwaizumi scrubs his hands down a tired face, hoping to rub away the distraction. He still had a bar to run, employees to hassle into working and daydreaming to avoid.

\---

Iwaizumi is left alone until the next weekend.

It’s nearing ten o’clock when the bar gets extra busy because of college students filtering in to celebrate making it through another week of classes. Iwaizumi and Daichi working side by side at the bar, Suga working on table orders and fluttering between the bar and kitchen. Tonight Ukai is solo in the kitchen, flipping burger patties and hot wings ; in another life he would’ve made for an amazing chef. Instead of Lev, Hinata is their busboy tonight, helping Suga get orders to their tables and cheerily greeting everyone who walks through the door.

It’s relatively an ordinary weekend night, Iwaizumi being too busy to pay attention to the kind of people coming and going. He has no idea he’s being watched until he turns around to grab a clean glass and the turn back brings him face to face with the person he’d unconsciously been hoping to see again.

“Hello, handsome. Mind if I order a drink?”

Iwaizumi almost lets the glass fall from his hand, almost let’s it shatter on the floor at his feet. He fumbles to keep it in his hands, already flustered from two sentences. “Yeah, what’ll it be?” His voice is more gruff than he’d meant it to be, a little curt.

If Oikawa notices the tension, he doesn’t show it, not missing a beat. “A peach daiquiri.”

Iwaizumi raises a brow, but doesn’t say anything in judgement, nudging Daichi to pass him a shaker. He’s very aware of the eyes watching him from the barstool, trying to appear relaxed and in his element as he pours the drink and scoots it over. The coquettish smile he gets has his stomach doing flips, the two gazing at each other, entranced by an invisible magnetic pull.

“You flex when you make drinks,” Oikawa says, and although the bar is loud with chatter and humored laughter, Iwaizumi doesn’t have to strain to hear as if his world has centered to one man. “You must work out to get biceps like that.”

A dry swallow followed by,” Yeah a little, I guess.”

He’s enamored by the curve of Oikawa’s smile, the flutter of his lashes, the gleam in his eyes as they regard him with special interest. He catches a flash of bright orange hair and Hinata comes bounding over, squeezing between Oikawa and another patron to wildly wave another set of drink orders in his direction.

“Got five more, boss!”

Oikawa’s stare shifts too, lips pursed, but eyes dancing in amusement over the eagerness of their interrupter. Iwaizumi restrains himself from rolling his eyes, directing a finger down the length of the bar. “You need to come back here and hand them over, Hinata. We’ve been over this - you want to avoid disrupting the customers by leaning over the bar.”

“Ah!! Sorry, boss!!”

Iwaizumi sighs, following the quick footsteps of his busboy making his way behind the bar, waving the paper triumphantly in his hand as Daichi offers to take them. Iwaizumi should be looking around to see who needs refills but the tapping of a finger on the bar leads him back to Oikawa.

“It’s cute, the way you handle him. Very responsible of you.” It’s spoken in a teasing tone before Oikawa takes a sip of his daiquiri, licking the taste from his lips.

Iwaizumi becomes consumed with watching the flick of that tongue rather than offering a response. Belatedly he says,” Someone has to keep him from tripping over himself.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Suga sending a curious look his way, weaving between tables. He’s sure Daichi has also noticed his current predicament because he prepares the drinks without complaint and sends Hinata back out with them, pointedly staying on the other side of the bar without a second glance. Iwaizumi’s “crush” has been the hot topic among the staff lately, Yaku and Saeko unhelpfully outing him to anyone who would listen. He should tear himself away while he can, a dozen excuses could be used with how busy it’s been tonight.

All of them shrivel and die in his throat as Oikawa opens his mouth to speak again. “I like that about you. I like reliable men.”

It’s said with a suggestive wink and Iwaizumi worries he’ll burst into flames in the next ten seconds. Floundering, he finds something to say,” Where are your friends?”

Oikawa makes a vague hand gesture to the area behind him. “Mingling about, drinking their woes away.”

If Iwaizumi bothered to look, he’d be able to make out Turnip Head - Kindaichi making his way over to a pool table surrounded by familiar faces. He’d be able to see Caterpillar Brows polishing a pool stick as someone else sets up the billiard balls. Iwaizumi, however, only has his attention on Oikawa and isn’t inclined to tear his gaze away.

“Why aren’t you with them?” Not that he wants Oikawa to leave, just surprised he decided to come talk to him instead. Then with narrowed eyes,” If you’re trying to get free drinks it won’t work on me.”

He’s met with laughter and he crosses his arms with a frown to keep from smiling. He’s giving himself away too much, letting Oikawa pull him into a dance with no end in sight. He’s given a coy look under a sweep of lashes for his trouble. “Maybe I just find you interesting. Maybe I wanted to talk to you.”

He grunts, seeing a patron a few seats to Oikawa’s left raise a hand for another drink. He takes an extra moment to watch Oikawa watching him. “I’m not that interesting,” he says lamely then moves away.

Iwaizumi serves two more regulars, catching up on how their families are doing, trading jokes and ribbing. By the time he ventures back to where Oikawa had been sitting, he was gone. Searching the crowd of people packed in the bar, he catches pink hair among a group by the front door. He’s disappointed when his suspicions are proven correct as he sees them file out, catching Oikawa looking back for him and giving a little wave of his fingers before he lets the door slip shut. Their interaction tonight had been short, but Iwaizumi craved more, just another minute, maybe an eternity.

The peach daiquiri glass is empty and Iwaizumi hopes that means he liked it, that he’ll come back and ask Iwaizumi to make more some time. When he picks it up to clean it, he finds a scrap of paper pinned below it. Curiously he picks it up and his heart starts to race, cheeks hot and a grin threatening to take over his face.

It’s a phone number neatly written once again, the same winky face, but this time Oikawa’s name is written underneath and a ‘ _call me_ ’ in the bottom right corner.

“That’s a clear invitation,” a voice over his shoulder startles him. Iwaizumi jumps, fisting the paper and pulls it into his chest. He has only a moment to level a stern look at Suga before the other is speaking again. “Yaku told me you fell for a pretty face.”

“I’m not - I didn’t -” He sputters, but the evidence is burning a hole in his hand.

Suga’s smile is pleasant with an edge of mirth as he pats Iwaizumi’s shoulder and leaves another set of drink orders on the counter infront of him. He does his best to shake off the residual mortification at being caught looking like a sap and gets back to work. The piece of paper is relocated to his pocket, ready to be joined with its brethren pinned by a frog magnet on the fridge. He won’t think about it, he promises himself, he’ll wait until after the bar is closed and he’s made it to his apartment to have another mental crisis over Oikawa Tooru.

Closing time comes around two a.m. freeing Iwaizumi and his employees from the drunken antics of lingering patrons. Hinata ushers a regular, Takuro, into a cab and comes back in, heaving a loud, relieved sigh and collapses into the nearest chair. Iwaizumi chuffs a laugh where he’s seated a table away. “Job well done, Hinata.”

Hinata turns his head to the side and smiles brightly, happy to be praised. He’s been progressively better at handling the tricky drunk patrons and following protocol when sending them home, a great help when everyone else isn’t available to do so.

Suga is sitting next to Daichi at another table close by, the chair turned so he can lay his legs over his partner’s lap. The two look exhausted, Daichi rubbing a hand on Suga’s leg in a soothing repeated up and down motion. They share a besotted stare, their smiles holding intimate secrets meant for each other.

“Well I’m tired as shit,” Ukai grouses, managing to stay on his feet as he pats down his jacket for his packet of cigarettes and lighter. Iwaizumi offers a snort, knowing full well they’re all capable of falling asleep on the tables if they wanted to. “I’ll help close up so you can all scram.”

“How kind of you,” Suga mumbles, head listing to one side as he blinks slowly.

“Very kind,” Daichi agrees, carefully moving Suga’s legs to stand up and stretch. He helps his boyfriend up, steadying him with a hand on his back. He looks over to Hinata who has sat up halfway, rubbing tiredly at an eye. “I’ll drive you home, Hinata. Come on.”

Iwaizumi waves half-heartedly goodbye before getting to his feet and helping to stack the chairs up. He expects to get done quickly, share some words with Ukai who’ll smoke outside while they talk then part ways. It should be simple and easy, especially after the long night they’ve all endured.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket and keeps going until it stops. A missed call, something he can surely answer to later if isn’t a scam caller. Then it happens again so Iwaizumi sucks it up and pulls out his phone to glance at the screen. It’s not a number he recognizes, but being tired gives him less concerns about picking it up anyway.

“Hello?”

“ _Took you long enough_ ,” is the growly reply.

“Kyoutani?”


	2. CHAPTER TWO : KUROO [1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Next time I’m off we have to go to the arcade,” Kuroo suggests, side-eyeing Kenma. “I’m going to beat your highscore at _Donkey Kong_ this time around.”
> 
> “I’d like to see you try with half your face covered by your bedhead,” snarked back.
> 
> “Hey! I walk fine, I eat fine, I work fine. I can play the game just fine too.”
> 
> Yamamoto has grown very quiet, Kuroo notices. His eyes cut to his friend, raising a brow at the deep pout he sees on the other’s face. _Interesting_. Kuroo knows an in when he sees one.
> 
> “You look mighty pensive,” he muses, glancing at Kenma who seems to also have caught on. “Something happen? You’re not usually so well-behaved and hushed - you know what, maybe you should stay this way forever.”
> 
> He’s jostled for his trouble, shoulders bumping hard enough to sting. The expression doesn’t lighten, however. “I’m always cool and collected.”
> 
> “Liar,” Kenma immediately argues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically a buffer chapter that primarily focuses on Kuroo's involvement in this story. This chapter's time frame takes place during the day and night of Iwaizumi and Oikawa's first meeting in the bar. As of right now this should be the only chapter that takes place in the past.
> 
> See end of chapter for more author's notes!

Kuroo didn’t wake up on the wrong side of the bed, infact he’d woken up chipper and well-rested despite working a double-shift at the bar the day prior. He was working tonight, but had plans to meet a few friends for a friendly outing before being chained to Seijoh for the rest of the night. He hadn’t expected anything other than a fun time.

The morning lulled him into a false sense of comfort and security.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

His bestfriend, Bokuto, greets him loudly and happily. He’s outside waiting infront of the movie theater with his boyfriend, Akaashi, who is leaning against a wall tapping on his phone. Kuroo jogs over, doesn’t resist the strong embrace of his bestfriend and eyes Akaashi over Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Kenma didn’t show up?”

Without looking up,” He texted me an hour ago that he’s choosing to stay in.”

Kuroo let’s the disappointment roll off him, unsurprised. Kenma and him had been friends since childhood and he was familiar with the bailouts and disinterest. He had half a mind to drag his smaller friend out, but decided pushing his luck was too much effort ; maybe they could meet at the arcade on his next day off instead.

“I’m so excited,” Bokuto bounced away, freeing his limbs to hoist them into the air. “It’s gonna be so awesome! I want to see explosions and car chases and -”

“More unnecessary explosions?” Akaashi’s voice is dull and Kuroo knows firsthand he’s here for Bokuto’s sake, not an action flick kind of guy. The way he humors his boyfriend is admirable, cute even.

“It’s necessary!” Bokuto flails his arms, golden eyes flashing with merriment at the idea. “It makes everything look cooler and the good guys get to do these amazing stunts!”

Sly eyes finally look up from the phone. “You don’t need explosions to be cool.”

Mouth open to argue further, but stops, gaping for a moment. Owlishly blinking, Bokuto mumbles,” You think I’m cool?”

The smile that spreads across Akaashi’s lips is mixed amusement and fondness. Kuroo covers his snickering behind a hand, used to their version of flirting. He’s happy for the both of them, especially now that he doesn’t have to listen to Bokuto’s whining and sulking, pining for their mutual friend. Really, he better be made best man at their wedding for all the nudging he’d had to do to get them together in the first place.

“Let’s go, lovebirds. I wanna see the previews.” Kuroo links an arm through Bokuto’s, using the hold to start dragging the other inside the theater. Akaashi follows silently, the smile small yet there all the same.

After acquiring two bags of popcorn, three large sodas and Bokuto’s insistent outcry for sour patch kids, they were seated in the front middle seats. Bokuto sat between Kuroo and Akaashi, shoving buttered popcorn into his hamster-puffed cheeks and took large slurps of soda. The movie consists of a barrage of macho yelling and punching with a dash of side story romance and the dutiful get-away car chase near the end. The only distractions are from, predictably, Bokuto who gasps and muffled sounds of anticipation by biting his lip. It all ends in a rather anticlimactic way in Kuroo’s opinion, but he doesn’t have the heart to poke fun at his friend’s emotional investment in a cheesy plotline.

The moment the credits start to descend on the screen, Bokuto is hooting in glee. “Did you see that? Did you guys see that?”

“We watched the same movie, Bo.”

“It was so cool when the guy used that grappling hook to shoot up the building and snatched the girl up mid-way. Kaashi, what’dya think? I told you this one was gonna be the best one yet!”

“You said that two sequels ago,” Akaashi deadpans.

“But I mean it,” starts the rant of a feverish love for all things heroic and bold, tied with a bow of overused action cliches. Kuroo tunes it out in favor of checking his phone and is genuinely bemused at the influx of text messages he’d received while it was on silent mode.

From : **Pudding Head**  
[ _movie ended ?_ ]  
[ _where are u_ ]  
[ _tora keeps callin me_ ]  
[ _kidnapped me_ ]

There’s a few more along those lines, mostly complaining about their friend Yamamoto who has somehow convinced Kenma out of his hole to go out to do something. What that something is, Kuroo is about to find out. Apparently he has five missed phone calls from Yamamoto and one from Kenma as well.

“ _Finally_ ,” Kenma’s voice sighs out, picking up on the first ring.

“What’s going on? You said you weren’t coming to the movie and now you’re trailing Yamamoto around?”

“ _He kidnapped me_.”

Kuroo has a hard time believing anyone besides maybe himself and their parents could get Kenma to do anything he didn’t want to do. “Okay. Where’d he take you?”

The question draws a raised brow from Akaashi, curious eyes following him as he takes the lead out of the theater room. He drops his empty soda into the trash on the way out and contemplates what to do. He has three hours left to himself before work, two if he adds in a fast shower, getting dressed then taking the short walk there.

Kenma’s answer is cut off and there’s a scuffle before a new voice comes through. “ _Kuroo! Kuroo, my man, my friend, you should come hang out with us. I tried calling you-_ ”

“Yamamoto,” the amusement leaks through his voice,” what have you done with our precious kitten?”

“ _We’re chilling out is all! Shibayama and Inuoka are busy and Fukunaga is out of town…_ ”

That would explain some things. “Lonely, huh?”

“ _No… okay, maybe. I haven’t seen or heard from either of you in a week. Hang out with us at Komi’s restaurant for awhile_.”

Three hours. Two if he counts a shower, getting dressed and the walk. Kuroo doesn’t own a car, Komi’s is not around the corner. Making his way outside, he spins on his heel and eyes his two friends that have followed him back out. 

“Wanna get something to eat?”

“We just ate popcorn and snacks!”

“No, Bo. Like, dinner food.”

Kuroo turns his gaze to Akaashi and he’s met with an unimpressed stare. “C’mon, I’ll even pay for your food if you give me a ride up.”

“Kaaaaaashi!”

“We were meant to see a movie and go home.”

Bokuto pouted, scuffing his foot on the ground in genuine disappointment. “So you don’t wanna?”

If Kuroo hadn’t known them for so long, he’d think this was an act. However, his bestfriend wore his heart on his sleeve and although Akaashi was often harder to read, he was able to see the moment he caved, eyes softer as he spoke. “We shouldn’t stay long.”

The bags under Akaashi’s eyes proved his exhaustion, working late hours at the Tech company. This was the first friendly outing they’d taken in a few weeks and probably the first night he and Bokuto had to themselves together in some time. Kuroo felt bad at intruding on their time, but knew their energetic companion was hard to sway when he put his mind to doing something.

“An hour at most,” Kuroo agrees,” I have work in a few anyway. First, let’s save Kenma.”

\---

Komi’s Family Restaurant is having a slow night as evident when the three walked inside, a few patrons seated at tables peppered here and there. They quickly find familiar faces among the people and Bokuto is quick to shout out, drawing a few glances with equally annoyed and curious customers.

“Saru! Saru look over here!”

Sarukui is enjoying tempura, looking up with a half-smile. Bokuto is quick to invade his space, sitting down at the table without preamble. Yamamoto is more enthusiastic at waving them over, grin wide. Kenma is sitting to Yamamoto’s right, engrossed in his phone until he takes a moment to observe the commotion, glancing around until he sees Kuroo and visibly relaxes. Kuroo offers a lazy smirk, coming to join them as Akaashi fusses with getting Bokuto to remove his coat.

“Fancy meeting you all here,” Kuroo jokes.

“You came! We’re all having udon - except Sarukui because he thinks he’s special.”

“I am special,” smugly stated. “I’m dating the future owner.”

“That doesn’t count,” Yamamoto grouses.

“Can’t believe you’re marrying Komi for his money,” Kuroo teased.

“You’re just jealous Komiyan likes me best and gives me free food.”

Kuroo sits down and shoots Kenma a glance, mouthing ‘ _you good?_ ’. Kenma has that constipated expression he gets when he can’t beat a hard level of a game. He would snicker if he didn’t just receive a text message from the other.

From : **Pudding Head**  
[ _toras weird today_ ]  
[ _he wont say whats wrong_ ]

Kenma has always been one of the most perceptive people in his friend group, rivalling Akaashi. Yamamoto was Kuroo’s friend first, as many of Kenma’s friends ended up being, but the two had grown close over the years, especially in highschool after Kuroo graduated a year before them. It was a relief to be able to rely on someone else looking after his skittish and loner childhood friend when he couldn’t be there. They’ve grown to know each other well and if Kenma thinks something is wrong, odds are his intuition is accurate.

Turning his attention to the cause of concern : Yamamoto’s grin is a little tight around the edges, the tapping of his fingers on his knee an anxious habit, even the way he talked was somehow changed and strained. He’s a hothead with a strong sense of pride, quick to anger and intimidated by girls. A week of no contact, a week of time Kuroo needed to account for ; in the span of a week what the hell happened?

“Let’s have a toast!” Yamamoto’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

“I thought we weren’t drinking,” Kenma murmurs derisively.

“What? I never said that! Live a little, would ya? It’s just soju.”

Kenma sends Kuroo a ‘ _help me_ ’ stare, grimacing. Mischievously poking fun,” A toast? What for?”

“To good friends! And, uh, all that jazz!” Yamamoto raises his cup, but it appears he’s the only one drinking. Watching carefully, Kuroo believes that, yes, Kenma was right.

“Stop making such a ruckus,” comes a reprimanding voice. Komi comes out in his usual work attire, the classic white button up and black pants combo with a black apron. He greets the newer attendees with a small smile. “He convince you guys to come out too?”

Kuroo leans back, closer to Komi. He puts a hand up to his mouth as if to whisper, but speaks in an exaggerated fairly loud tone,” It’s a hostage situation, we didn’t have a choice.”

“Hey!”

Most of the table occupants laugh and Bokuto is chatting with Komi about his favorite dishes, how they went to see a movie and that’s he’s looking forward to a fresh bowl of udon. Kuroo orders the same, keeping an eye on Yamamoto. He’ll have to devise a plan to extract information in the little time he has to spare today.

Another buzz from his phone and a quick glance reveals that it’s Kenma again.

From : **Pudding Head**  
[ _what will u do?_ ]  
[ _my battery is @ 15%_ ]

From : **KURO**  
[ _gimme a few minutes ok? im thinking_ ]

From : **Pudding Head**  
[ _well think harder_ ]

It takes Kuroo until after he’s finished his udon bowl to think up a possible plan of action, but really he’s just been lying in wait, watching Yamamto’s body language. Akaashi has already pressed Bokuto out the door after a few goodbyes and Kenma has complained twice more about his battery being low and wanting to leave. It’s a simple plan and should work now that Yamamoto seems more at ease, whatever urgency for social contact he had before died down.

Kuroo slurps the last of his noodles and wipes his mouth, gesturing to a waitress. “I think it’s time to move this party elsewhere.”

“What?” Echoed by two voices, Sarukui is silently watching.

“Yeah,” Kuroo pushes his bowl away and leans his elbows on the table,” let’s go for a walk, take Kenma home, talk or whatever.”

Yamamoto looks like he’s about to resist, but seems to cave in the next moment. Kuroo grabs the bill and pays for himself, Akaashi and Bokuto as Yamamoto splits his bill with Kenma. They wait to say goodbye to Komi, teasing him and Sarukui for being domestic saps then part ways.

“This feels like good ol’ times.” Pleasant and easy, opening the door for conversation.

“Yeah, this walk holds a lot of memories,” Yamamoto agrees, grinning.

They used to walk to and from Komi’s Family Restaurant as highschoolers, grabbing a bite to eat, shoving each other playfully then wandering the streets just talking for hours. That was during simpler times when bills weren’t looming over their heads and they all hadn’t become consumed with their individual adult lives. They still made time to do things together, but not nearly as frequent and rambunctious as they were when they were teenagers.

“Next time I’m off we have to go to the arcade,” Kuroo suggests, side-eyeing Kenma. “I’m going to beat your highscore at _Donkey Kong_ this time around.”

“I’d like to see you try with half your face covered by your bedhead,” snarked back.

“Hey! I walk fine, I eat fine, I work fine. I can play the game just fine too.”

Yamamoto has grown very quiet, Kuroo notices. His eyes cut to his friend, raising a brow at the deep pout he sees on the other’s face. _Interesting_. Kuroo knows an in when he sees one.

“You look mighty pensive,” he muses, glancing at Kenma who seems to also have caught on. “Something happen? You’re not usually so well-behaved and hushed - you know what, maybe you should stay this way forever.”

He’s jostled for his trouble, shoulders bumping hard enough to sting. The expression doesn’t lighten, however. “I’m always cool and collected.”

“Liar,” Kenma immediately argues.

Yamamoto looks like he’s about to reach over and pull Kenma’s hair or something in retaliation. Kuroo cuts in before they can get into a slap fight. “You’re avoiding the question! Usually you’re very competitive about the arcade… what’s the matter? Finally admitting defeat to me?”

“Not even in your dreams,” Yamamoto denies. Then he deflates,” I ran into somebody there the other day.”

A week unaccounted for. A week in which something could’ve happened. Kuroo latches onto that immediately, but it’s Kenma who questions further. “Is this about another girl?” His voice is displeased, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe I worried over nothing.”

“It’s not just any girl!”

Kuroo lets out a sigh of relief. So it wasn’t as serious as he had feared, expecting something disastrous considering the mood shift. Yamamoto was known for his pining habits, distracted by a pretty face and confident disposition. “So who is she? You make it sound like you knew her from somewhere.”

Another moment of quiet, an unwilling tension falling upon all three of them. Kuroo is tempted to push, if only so his friend could find relief in talking about it, when Yamamoto blurts out,” Mika. It was Mika.”

It doesn’t hit at first, deciphering the impact of that statement. Kenma comes to the conclusion first and stops in his tracks, pulling them all into a standstill. “You idiot,” he hisses.

Kuroo blinks, surprise coloring his face. He hasn’t seen Kenma lose his temper since second year of highschool when someone tried stealing his apple pie. “Mika? Who is - Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” defensively thrown up like a shield from their judgement. “She stood next to me while I was playing and we started talking. She remembered me!”

Slapping a hand against his face,” Do you know the kind of trouble you’re gonna get yourself into if that damned snake finds out?”

“You didn’t see her, Kuroo! She looked so cute in that skirt and she put her hand on my arm -”

“She’s probably using you to make him jealous,” Kenma reasons. It’s not a nice thing to say, but it isn’t as if the past hasn’t proven that before.

Suguru Daishou was a notorious antagonist in their lives and Kuroo’s rival since middle school. His competitive side aided by manipulation got plenty of unsuspecting victims into detention and the ire of school faculty. Mika was Suguru’s on-and-off again girlfriend starting towards the end of middle school. Their break-ups were always public and within a few days the two were back together like nothing happened ; Kuroo had witnessed at least three occasions in freshman year of highschool. The problem usually came around when Mika was fed up playing the waiting game and got a little more active in spurring Suguru into wanting to take her back. In highschool she’d tried to cozy up to Kuroo who honestly wasn’t interested, but that had moved on to Yamamoto in the end who’d had a couple of verbal altercations with Suguru before they all graduated. Heartsick and unable to fully let it go, Yamamoto was convinced for most of that time that Mika was genuine in her interest and the two would have a happy future together.

This was not the case. None of them had seen her around in a couple years, but Suguru still roamed the streets from time to time. He liked throwing snide remarks at Kuroo and his friends if they ever crossed paths, but that, mercifully, was where the contact ended.

“It’s like highschool all over again,” Kuroo’s dry tone makes Yamamoto wince.

Scuffing a foot on the ground,” It’s not like that guys. I really like her, you know?”

“You hardly know her outside of a highschool acquaintance.”

“Haven’t you ever been in love, Kuroo?”

That makes him pause. A flash of light brown hair, the stern set of brown eyes, an annoyed voice yelling commands to clumsy busboys. Maybe he knew a thing or two.

“She isn’t in love with you,” Kenma points out and although it may seem harsh, he’s really just looking out for his friend.

“You don’t know that!”

A heavy sigh. “Tora, please don’t do this. Not again.”

The quiver of lips, a hard shake of the head. “She likes me, I know it. That snake doesn’t deserve her, I can make her happy.”

“You think she’s gonna run off with you and you’ll get married and have seven kids in a beautiful seaside house you built with your bare hands?” Kuroo means it as a joke, but the serious line of Yamamoto’s mouth suggests that, yes, he certainly thought it was a possibility. “You can’t be serious! She’s doing the same thing she did before!”

“You don’t know, Mika,” a stubborn and weak defense. “We talked for a whole three hours! Got drinks down at Swans and -”

“You went to a rival bar for your date? This is betrayal.”

“Kuroo,” Kenma gives him a flat look,” it wasn’t a date. She used him to get free drinks.”

“I’m a gentleman!” Yamamoto grits his teeth, offended. “Of course I bought her drinks!”

Kenma sends an ‘ _I told you so_ ’ look to Kuroo. If they don’t stop this now, this could mean trouble. Kuroo isn’t willing to let his friend walk into disaster by himself if Suguru catches wind and tries to start something.

Judging by the small group coming their way, it was too late to avoid that. Suguru himself heads the pack, the sharp glint in his eyes near murderous. He’s flanked by two people on his right and one on his left. Hiroo and Seguro are closer to Kuroo’s height and were known to intimidate people for fun. Sakishima was more of an antagonist like Suguru, analytical when it came to finding and pressing into weaknesses he found. The worst possible set-up when Kuroo has only an hour left to get the hell out of this shit.

“Rooster-hair bastard,” Suguru greets with a thin-lipped smile, clearly disingenuous. “Been awhile - got a lot of catching up to do, hm?” Eyes narrow and cut to Yamamoto with purpose, a swirl of anger reflected in their depths. And that’s the moment Kuroo knows he’s not going to work tonight.

\---

Bokuto got to hear all about the fight the next day by Kuroo’s retelling. It was spectacularly lame considering all the fights he’d had before ; came with the territory of being friends with hot-headed idiots and hustling raging drunks at pool. Most of the altercation had been a shouting match between Suguru and Yamamoto who had not only caught wind of Mika’s “date”, but the latter half of their conversation in the street about the incident.

Kuroo thought he left that all behind a year ago when he started working for Iwaizumi. He worked dutifully, got to keep all his tips, was treated as a friend and actually enjoyed his time at Seijoh despite the exhausting hours it took to keep the bar running. He was proud to be associated with a good team who helped each other and a boss he admired and respected, who also gave him a chance even knowing his reputation. If Iwaizumi hadn’t given him the job, Kuroo was about to be homeless and starve because he’d run out of money from being fired by his previous boss. He hadn’t fancied moving into a cramped apartment with Kenma, Shibayama and Inuoka and the only other option was to intrude on Bokuto and Akaashi’s place.

He didn’t get the same thrill punching Suguru in the face last night as he would have only a year ago. The black eye and busted lip were not shiny badges to carry around for him anymore. All he carried was guilt when he came to work the next night.

“The hell happened to you?” Yaku’s voice is the first thing he hears after walking in.

His instinct, as always, is to grin, the cut on his lip pulling and stinging. “Had a little argument to settle.” The conversation quickly turns on Iwaizumi shortly thereafter because apparently he wasn’t the hottest topic around despite his current condition.

Yaku doesn’t forget about him. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, Kuroo.”

“I’m hurt, give me a break. Don’t you see I’m a wounded man?” He doesn’t stop grinning as he speaks. “Or are you concerned for me? Aww, that’s so sweet.”

“I’m about to give you a matching black eye.” The words sound harsh, but the gentle motion of Yaku coming closer and reaching a hand up to lightly prod at the cut lip is caring. He pulls away, leaving the skin to tingle in a way Kuroo knows has nothing to do with pain. “Stay out of trouble. You’re not a teenager.”

Kuroo has an urge to lick his lips, he resists. “No promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may not flow as well as last chapter, but I hope it was still fun to read! Next chapter we'll fall back into Iwaizumi's perspective and the mystery of Kyoutani's phone call.
> 
> Also I know I didn't write in Kuroo ending his phone call with Yamamoto during the chapter, but let's pretend that he did before asking Bokuto and Akaashi out for noodles ;D
> 
> Every chapter has a goal of 10 pages, updated weekly. If you want sneak peaks/updates/want to talk, my tumblr is @ rainbowredrobin! Feedback is always appreciated!


	3. CHAPTER THREE : IWAIZUMI [2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t know who Oikawa Tooru is. But maybe that’s because he hasn’t allowed himself the chance to know him at all.
> 
> “You should call him.”
> 
> He doesn’t realize he hasn’t spoken in awhile, lost in his own head until he hears Nishinoya speak. He blinks up at him, uncertainty heavy in his gut, but curiosity and want in his heart. “Yeah. I’ll call him, yeah.”
> 
> “Tonight.” Emphasized by an arched brow and a pat on the shoulder.
> 
> “... tonight,” he concedes because the reality is if he doesn’t commit now he may never find the determination to do so again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mystery of Kyoutani's involvement is unveiled! This chapter focuses on Iwaizumi's personal relationships and the reason for his dilemma on accepting Oikawa's interest.
> 
> See end of chapter for more author's notes!

Iwaizumi grew up in a middle-class household, his father a stern and responsibility-driven assembly worker and his mother a part-time seamstress that worked at a well-known tailoring business. His childhood home was two stories with an attic and a small lawn in a relatively quiet neighborhood. As a kid, he’d like to take his dinosaur toys out on the lawn and pretend to dig up treasures from the dirt. There weren’t any houses with kids for a long time until he was about seven or eight so he’d settled for pinched cheeks and old candy from the elderly couple to the right when he got bored at home.

Then the empty house to their left got bought and this is how he met Kyoutani Kentarou.

“What kind of trouble is he in?”

The police officer, _Sasaya_ his name tag reads, is a familiar face not by choice. He types something into the computer and squints at the screen. “Drunk in public, disturbing the peace… indecent exposure.”

“ _What_.” Iwaizumi is going to strangle Kyoutani at this rate. It’s embarrassing standing here trying to figure out how he’s going to get his friend out of this mess. “Nevermind just - what can I do?”

Sasaya is a decent enough man to only grace him with a simple look of pity. “ He’s been in the drunk tank long enough to be sobered up. There’s a fine you can pay so he can go home tonight. Other than that, he’s going to have to come to a court hearing for further sentencing.”

Court. Sentencing. Possible jail time.

Iwaizumi curses under his breath and fishes out the spare cash he has in his pocket and his credit card. This is not the first time he’s saved Kyoutani’s ass. He’s familiar with his friend’s record, his problem with authority and how disappointed correctional officer Moniwa is going to be when he hears about this.

It’s a long hour process, but Iwaizumi gets Kyoutani’s bail paid and waits for his friend to be released to him. It’s three a.m. and the tiresome antics of the day are starting to drag Iwaizumi into a half-sleep even as he’s standing there in the waiting room. He should feel angry, and at first he had, but now all his energy is being poured into the sole act of not slumping down into a chair and passing the fuck out.

Kyoutani’s face is painted in his furious default expression, mouth twitched into a half-snarl, eyes narrowed as two officers escorted him out. His eyeliner was smudged horribly, there’s a bruise blooming on his left cheek and both sets of knuckles on his hands are taped up. Iwaizumi doesn’t bother to ask why he looks a mess. He musters up enough strength to give his best disapproving stare and is only mildly satisfied to see Kyoutani’s scowl dim into something more guilty.

“You look like shit.”

A grunt is the only answer he gets and an averted gaze. Officer Kamasaki, another unfortunately familiar face, shakes his head at the two of them. “I’m getting real tired of seeing you in here. Listen to your friend who obviously has more brain cells and common sense than you.”

Kyoutani looks two seconds away from cursing him out, but one glance at Iwaizumi’s unamused glare silences him. “Thank you for your help, officers.” Iwaizumi gives Kamasaki and his partner, Aone, the silent type, a grave nod.

“Keep him in line,” Kamasaki warns as he watches them walk away. “I don’t fancy seeing a man’s genitals, on the job or not.”

A rush of second-hand embarrassment touches along Iwaizumi’s face, but Kyoutani looks unabashed. “Will do, officer.”

They make their escape and walk in silence a block away from the police station. When they come to a standstill, a harsh exasperated sound leaves Iwaizumi’s throat, throwing another wholly unimpressed look at his companion. He has a lot of questions.

Another grunt. “M’sorry. Had no one else to call.”

“You never do.” It sounds harsh, but it’s the truth. Kyoutani doesn’t really have any friends aside from Iwaizumi himself. “The hell were you doing? The hell were you _thinking_?”

He cannot fathom why a man on parole would cross a line like this knowing full well the consequences looming overhead at the slightest misstep. It’s frustrating trying to follow the reasoning, trying to understand why anyone would risk freedom over nothing. Iwaizumi can’t imagine what it would be like living in a prison cell with no friends or allies, nowhere to go for quiet, no one to turn to when shit hits the fan.

Kyoutani won’t look at him, lips twisted in that dark grimace that hardly ever leaves his face. He should be explaining himself, he should be confiding in his friend.

“ ** _Kentarou_**!” That snaps him to attention, but Iwaizumi isn’t satisfied. “What the hell is going on in that head of yours? You were fine and now you’re walking around drunk, being belligerent, flashing the police. What kind of idiot are you becoming?”

“Fuck off,” is mumbled.

The first hot flash of anger since learning about this whole debacle flares bright, licking up the edges of his vision. A fist bunches into the front of Kyoutani’s shirt, held tight as Iwaizumi pulls until they’re nose to nose, until there is no escape from his raging green eyes, where Kyoutani is backed into a corner with his tail between his legs and has no choice, but to answer back to his friend’s howling inquiries.

“You don’t get to do this, not to me. Not after all the bullshit I went through to get you this far.” He shook his fist a little, emphasizing their bond. “I didn’t bail you out tonight for nothing. I didn’t have your back through all these years for nothing. I’m your friend, hell, you’re like a brother to me. Just talk to me.”

Kyoutani visibly bared and clenched his teeth, looking more like a rabid trapped animal now as he death glared back at Iwaizumi who remained unmoved. “You don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get? That you don’t care what happens to you? That you’re willing to throw everything away for cheap beer and pretending to be rebellious?”

“I’m not like **_you ___** _ _!” That gets Iwaizumi’s attention, looking at the wild eyes of his friend, waiting him out. “I can’t be the guy everyone relies on and trusts. I can’t be the guy people want to be around. Everyone likes you! And I’m just the fuck-up friend dragging you down.”__

__The fist loosens, dropping off the shirt it had been grasping. “How long have you been thinking like this, idiot?”_ _

__The glaring continues for another minute in silence, but gradually Kyoutani’s dips off to the side, unable to look Iwaizumi in the face once more. “It’s the truth, ain’t it? Isn’t that what everyone says and thinks about me?”_ _

__A painful yet fond clench of his heart seizes Iwaizumi’s chest. He is Kyoutani’s only friend since the day they met, sharing dinosaur and car toys on the green, neatly kept lawn of the Iwaizumi home. They grew up together and even when Kyoutani started getting into trouble in highschool, he’d never abandoned him, cuffing his friend’s head and pushed him back in line without preamble. It had become routine over the years and he’d expected Kyoutani to run out of steam eventually, falling into something he loved and moving on with his life._ _

__“No,” he answers finally, voice gentler. “What happened tonight? Why were you drinking?”_ _

__There’s a mumble he doesn’t catch, asks for a repetition. “Got evicted,” gruffly spoken with a hint of bitter defeat,” because I couldn’t make rent anymore.”_ _

__Pity and dread ease into Iwaizumi’s words. “And the job at the auto-shop?”_ _

__Kyoutani’s silence is answer enough and pulls a heavy sigh from his lips. He’d thought recommending him there would be the end of his friend’s financial problem. He doesn’t want to pry anymore tonight, too tired to hear it and can see that Kyoutani doesn’t want to dwell on it either. What’s done is done and right now they both need some rest._ _

__“Where’s your things?”_ _

__Kyoutani hitches the bag on his shoulder up a little to indicate it. He’d never had much to his name since being kicked out by his parents after dropping out of highschool. All he cared about were the few clothes he had, a picture album he’d swiped from home and a stuffed animal named Mochi his aunt had given to him when he was first born, along with some important legal documents he kept in a worn binder._ _

__“Good. As of tonight, you’re moving in with me.” There’s a stuttered protest, but Iwaizumi is already moving, walking in the direction of his apartment on weary feet. “The couch will have to do for now until I can get you a spare mattress. I don’t have much in the fridge, but if you’re hungry I’m sure you can find something. We’ll make a shopping list in the morning.”_ _

__“I don’t - I can’t move in, Hajime.”_ _

__He doesn’t pause in his steps, barreling over any excuses. “You aren’t sleeping in a gutter. I’m not that bad of a friend.”_ _

__A hand reaches out and stops him, forcibly turning him around with a grip on a shoulder. “I can’t stay. I can’t pay rent or for food without a job. I don’t want to burden you like that.”_ _

__It was a valid point and one that crossed Iwaizumi’s mind fleetingly._ _

__“Don’t worry about it,” a serious declaration,” I’ve already thought of a solution.”_ _

__\---_ _

__Running a business, no matter how small, could be rather taxing. It took a long time for Iwaizumi to figure out he couldn’t just work then go home and sleep every day of every week. Therefore, every Sunday the bar was closed and he took the day off for himself. No worrying about washing dishes or mopping the floors of the bar. Now he could focus on other things… like washing his own dishes and mopping his own floors._ _

__Walking out of the bedroom, he spots Kyoutani stretched out along the couch, half his face buried in a pillow with an arm hanging off the side. He must have kicked the wool blanket off at night while trying to get comfortable. He takes a moment just to observe, heart swelling with fondness before padding into the adjoining kitchen._ _

__Opening the fridge reveals a miserable sight, mostly bare except for a few measly ingredients to make a meal or two. He settles on preparing something simple, tamago kake gohan, and by the time he’s steamed the rice and added the egg, Kyoutani has sat up with a groan. Iwaizumi spares him a glance, notes the pained scrunch of his eyes against the light filtering through the window curtains._ _

__“Eat,” he commands while striding over and putting a bowl into Kyoutani’s hands. He ventures back to the kitchen to start tea, returns to sit by his friend’s side after passing over a water bottle. He watches Kyoutani drink half the bottle then set it aside to shovel food into his mouth before starting to eat himself. With a cheek full he continues to talk,” Figured we could hit the gym then go to the store.”_ _

__Kyoutani gulps down a large bite. “Extra weight training?”_ _

__Iwaizumi laughs. “You could call it that. If you think you can handle it.”_ _

__“I’m not weak, I bet I can carry more bags than you.” He winces only a little when he gets up voluntarily as the teapot screeches. He rummages through the cupboards for two cups, serving them both. When he sits back down, however, he goes quiet._ _

__After a side eye and sip of tea,” Do you need medicine?”_ _

__Kyoutani shakes his head, glowering down into the cup of tea in his hands. He seems to be mulling something over in his head, opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “Thanks… for taking me in. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”_ _

__“Probably found a pack of stray dogs and became their leader.” They share a rueful grin, but all joking aside, Iwaizumi feels the sentiment in those words. He hears the gratefulness and the apology. “I’ll always help you, you can always turn to me. We’ll figure things out together, okay?”_ _

__Kyoutani may get a little misty-eyed, but Iwaizumi doesn’t point it out._ _

__\---_ _

__“One more! You got one more in you, man, I believe in you!”_ _

__Iwaizumi takes a harsh breath through his teeth, ignoring the screaming of his muscles as he pushes his arms up straight once more against the weight in his hands. The strain burns as he forces himself to hold it for a few seconds then drops it back down, trying to be careful as two hands spot him. The sound of metal on metal reaches his ears as he finishes his set, triumph pumping through his veins as he sits up from the weight bench._ _

__Wiping forehead sweat away with the back of a hand,“ Thanks Noya.”_ _

__Nishinoya Yuu was a personal trainer Iwaizumi had employed a year ago when he realized he was getting older and wasn’t as in shape as he felt he could be. The other man was just a few years younger than him, on the shorter side, but always fired up and motivating. Whenever he was frustrated or stressed, Nishinoya was a good guy to call for talking and working out with until all his woes were shed away._ _

__“You worked up a good sweat! I’m proud of you - you look less constipated too.”_ _

__He swats at the other, a small smile on his face even when he hears unrestrained laughter. “I needed it,” he admits,” been having a hell of a time.”_ _

__Nishinoya spares a glance over at the treadmill where Kyoutani is running. Another trainer, Tanaka, who is waiting for his next client is running alongside him and offering polite chatter. Although he hadn’t mentioned the full extent of last night’s escapade, Iwaizumi had thrown a few complaints about it during the session._ _

__Kyoutani looked better, guilt and weariness replaced with his usual gruffness and a subtly pleased attitude. He seemed happy enough now, a night’s rest and a good meal having done the trick to dispel last night’s dread. That wasn’t the only source of Iwaizumi’s stressed out state of mind, however._ _

__“So this guy gave you his number, right?”_ _

__Iwaizumi takes a long swig of water before answering. He thought of his encounters at the bar with his special interest. Iwaizumi wasn’t a relationship expert, he’d had a handful of relationships that ended on mutual terms and stopped trying once he gave all his time over to run the bar. It would be foolish of him to claim he knew what he was doing when it came to being pursued by, what he assumed, was an admirer… which led him to opening up to Nishinoya._ _

__They were little more than tentative friends, but seeing a guy for a work-out routine twice a week for a year straight formed a unique bond between them nonetheless. Nishinoya knew about the situation through a brief conversation between crunches and push ups, Iwaizumi spilling his heart out. The main reason he trusted Nishinoya with this was because of his own relationship status, engaged to his boyfriend, a nutritionist by the name of Asahi. By the shine in the trainer’s eyes, the gushing he could fall into when his significant other was mentioned, Iwaizumi suspected he knew better about this kind of thing._ _

__“Twice,” he smiles as he says it. Kyoutani had asked about the two pieces of paper stuck to his fridge after breakfast, cut him a curious look when he skirted around the question._ _

__A low whistle. “And you haven’t called him? Didn’t you say he was hot?”_ _

__Iwaizumi flushes and for good reason. Calling Oikawa ‘hot’ was an understatement. Since their fateful meeting, he constantly envisioned the curve of a sly smile, wondered about the softness of that brown hair, replayed their conversations to remember the smooth tenor of Oikawa’s voice and, most despairingly, fantasized about what it would feel like to reach out and touch his cheek. His thoughts were plagued and it was beginning to affect his daily functions at work : spacing out while stocking the liquor cabinet, tripping over his own feet while watching the door, staring down at the black bar top where he’d served a beautiful man instead of cleaning it._ _

__His response is gruff. “It’s complicated.”_ _

__“Complicated,” parroted back with a hint of mirth,” or are you just afraid of it being too good to be true?”_ _

__Iwaizumi bristles, mouth dropping open to defend himself, but when he looks up, the eyes that stare back at him have a hint of sad understanding bleeding through. Jaw snapping shut, he pokes his tongue hard into the meat of his cheek, mulling over what he wants to say. It’s a little painful realizing that Nishinoya might be onto something._ _

__“I don’t know him. He’s just a stranger that walked into the bar one day -”_ _

__“And stole your heart?” Cheekily said, but again Nishinoya’s eyes betray more empathy than teasing. “I get it, you know? You drift through life, you meet people, try some things out, get fed up trying and give up. Then this seemingly perfect guy walks into your life and it’s like fireworks! You’re head over heels so fast you don’t know which way is up and down, and all you want is to be close to him and ask him all kinds of questions. What’s his favorite color? Does he like dango or dorayaki better? Then you’re wondering if he’ll let you kiss him if you ask. You’ll lay in bed picturing a future where you’ll share an apartment and spend your days watching drama TV reruns in your pajamas.”_ _

__Shockingly blinking back with wide eyes, Iwaizumi is both amazed and concerned with the emotional accuracy of his impassioned speech. “You, uh, know a lot about this kind of thing.”_ _

__A smile so big it makes Nishinoya squint his eyes. “I lived it. Azumane came into my life unexpected. He rocked my world, changed everything I thought I knew about wanting to live the rest of my life with someone. I never would have thought that could happen - until I just let it happen.”_ _

__He sends Iwaizumi a pointed look. He gets the message clearly._ _

__“How do you, uh,” he licks his lips, looks down at his hands resting between his thighs,” know you weren’t making a huge mistake? How did you know it wasn’t going to end badly?”_ _

__“I didn’t. It was rocky in the beginning. Azumane doubts himself too much when it comes to certain things, the big dummy! So I had to convince him to give us a shot. I didn’t know if it was going to work out or if it was the right thing to do. I’d just gained his friendship, I’d just fulfilled a hole in my life I didn’t know was there. Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and hope for the best.”_ _

__It’s solid advice. Iwaizumi has had to ride the waves of uncertainty before in his life, he knows no reward comes without a risk. Still… he finds that he’s afraid. There is something different here than all the other romantic interests he’s come across. The spark that buried itself under his skin has continued to buzz all this time, sending pulse reminders through his nerves and up to his brain, clinging to thoughts of one impossibly unforgettable man. That fact alone has him defensive, cautious with how his feelings have latched on to only a few encounters._ _

__He doesn’t know who Oikawa Tooru is. But maybe that’s because he hasn’t allowed himself the chance to know him at all._ _

__“You should call him.”_ _

__He doesn’t realize he hasn’t spoken in awhile, lost in his own head until he hears Nishinoya speak. He blinks up at him, uncertainty heavy in his gut, but curiosity and want in his heart. “Yeah. I’ll call him, yeah.”_ _

__“Tonight.” Emphasized by an arched brow and a pat on the shoulder._ _

__“... tonight,” he concedes because the reality is if he doesn’t commit now he may never find the determination to do so again._ _

__“Good!” Nishinoya claps his hands then cranes his neck back to read the clock on the wall. “I think you’ve worked hard enough at the bench. Your friend looks like he’s heading over to the dumbbells next. Let’s join him and finish with those today.”_ _

__\---_ _

__“M’arms are gonna fall off.”_ _

__Iwaizumi snorts, tossing a grin over at Kyoutani’s slouched posture, rubbing at his arms pitifully. “I thought you said you could handle a work-out and carrying the bags back yourself?”_ _

__There’s a deeper set to his scowl, a challenging glint in his eyes accompanying it. Iwaizumi is just teasing, but he knows full well that the other will gladly try just to prove, well, nothing really. It’s not like he’s so bad a friend that he’d make Kyoutani carry everything._ _

__“What’d you talk to Yuu about?”_ _

__He pauses in the middle of inspecting two cucumbers, lowering them back down and eyeing his companion. Kyoutani’s gaze is expectant, giving the indication that brushing the conversation off wasn’t an option. Usually Kyoutani could care less about people’s personal problems, especially since he had so many of his own. But Iwaizumi… was always a special case, an exception. He cared about Iwaizumi and his happiness just as Iwaizumi cared about his._ _

__Straightening up,” Why does it matter?”_ _

__At this he receives a deep frown. “You don’t trust me?”_ _

__Denial is immediate, ready to spill from his mouth without hesitation. Of course he trusts Kyoutani, with his life and his secrets and insecurities. However, this isn’t something they’ve ever really talked about. Their romantic lives never crossed into their friendship, they never met each other’s partners, they never talked about them. Iwaizumi’s relationships had always been brief and kept privately while he never knew if Kyoutani even dated. It was a bit of an awkward topic, now that he thought about it, which was probably why neither of them ever initiated a conversation about it._ _

__He wasn’t afraid of telling Kyoutani he was interested in a guy, he wasn’t exactly subtle about that part of his life when it came to people who’d known him for a long time. Iwaizumi realized, for the first time, that he had no idea what way Kyoutani swung at all, if he was even interested in that kind of companionship. Being on parole and getting in trouble with the law wasn’t exactly a selling point for potential romantic relationships anyway._ _

__“I trust you,” easily leaves his lips despite his circling thoughts. “I was just getting some advice about something.”_ _

__He’s inspected with a judging glare. A grunt followed by,” I’ve never seen you this nervous about anything. Freaks me out.”_ _

__It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to glare. “I’m not acting nervous or weird or whatever.”_ _

__“You are.” Kyoutani brings up a hand to scratch the back of his head, frown deepening, looking pensive. He wants to convey his perspective, but has not always been the best with words. He resettles his glare on the cucumbers,” We don’t talk about this type of thing. I don’t really care, I just want to know what’s going on… is it about that phone number you got?”_ _

__Iwaizumi works his jaw, licks his lips. He’s not nervous, he’s not thinking about what a hole he’s dug himself in these last few weeks. “Yeah, just a guy I met while working.”_ _

__“... is he coming over any time soon?”_ _

__“What? No - I haven’t even gone out with him or anything. He just… comes to the bar and we talk a little.” He sucks on his lower lip, contemplative. “I might call him.”_ _

__“You might or you will?”_ _

__Iwaizumi looks at Kyoutani, takes in his averted gaze, notices his slumped shoulders and hands buried in his pockets. It takes him a moment to figure out what the problem is._ _

__“I’m not going to kick you out on the streets.” He crosses his arms and raises a brow, making it abundantly clear that he has no intention of shooing his bestfriend off just to get laid. “I’m actually insulted you’d think I’d be that kind of asshole.”_ _

__“I don’t want to get in the way -”_ _

__“You are **not** ,” voice darkened by assertion,” in the way. I told you, you’re staying and I don’t want to hear anymore arguments about it.”_ _

__Kyoutani shakes off whatever distress he’d harbored quickly after that. He perks up with what must be curiosity. “So what are you gonna to do about your school girl crush?”_ _

__“Not a school girl crush!”_ _

__“You have two papers with his number on it,” bluntly pointed out. “Is he weird? Creepy? Is there a reason you didn’t call? What’s the damn problem?”_ _

__Iwaizumi could laugh at the idea of describing Oikawa as ‘creepy’. “He’s… not like anyone I’ve met before. I don’t know what it is, but he’s just someone that makes me…”_ _

__“Makes you what?”_ _

__“Believe in love, I guess.” It’s an embarrassing statement, blurted out without thought because with Kyoutani he trusts and the honesty wins out above all denial._ _

__And then something over Kyoutani’s shoulder catches his eye. The glint off a pair of glasses on a familiar face when the light catches it just so. Soft hair primly styled, the curious tilt of a head, the surprised smile on a mouth he’s stared at time and time again. _Oikawa Tooru_._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone getting annoyed with the cliffhangers yet? I promise after next chapter we'll finally get the ball rolling for our romantic pair. Next chapter is from Oikawa's perspective of everything happening on his end. I know I said Chapter Two was going to be the only set in the past chapter... but I lied. So will Oikawa's, but I don't think this will continue for future chapters, tho we'll see.
> 
> Every chapter has a goal of 10 pages, updated weekly. If you want sneak peaks/updates/want to talk, my tumblr is @ rainbowredrobin! Feedback is always appreciated!


	4. CHAPTER FOUR : OIKAWA [1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “At least you won’t be desperately roaming the streets looking for potential victims.”
> 
> “Stop making me sound like a vampire!”
> 
> “You’re sucking the life out of me. I think the shoe fits.” A hand reaches out to flick at Oikawa’s ear then tug it lightly between two fingers. “Come out this weekend and drink away your unhappiness like the rest of us plebeians have to do.”
> 
> “So you’re making me stoop down to your level, Makki?”
> 
> “Maybe it’d teach you a thing or two about vanity.”
> 
> “I am beautiful and proud and anyone should feel honored to bask in my presence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay to this chapter! This is Oikawa's perspective of everything thats transpired between himself and Iwaizumi. It's mostly filled with Oikawa pining and playful banter, so enjoy!

A higher being is smiling down on him, cruel and malicious. Oikawa believes this because how else could he be a lonely, miserable sap now compared to five months ago?

“I’m dying.”

Hanamaki barely spares him a glance. “Is that why you’re letting yourself go?”

“What,” hissed back, Oikawa bolting upright from where he’d been sprawled across his friend’s bed like he owns it,” do you mean by that? Letting myself go? I’ll have you know I look goddamn beautiful every day of my life!”

“Hello, Narcissus.”

He harrumphs and flops onto his back again, bouncing slightly from the impact. “You’re supposed to be my bestfriend and you’re helping life torture me.”

“Consider it payback,” drawled back at him.

Oikawa curses his luck. His friend hold no sympathy for his plight and asking for comfort (i.e. whining dramatically) is getting him nowhere. “I’m beautiful and I’m going to die alone.”

“Narcis-”

A pillow sails from the bed to hit the back of Hanamaki’s head. Finally he swivels his desk chair, abandoning his game of solitaire to level a mischievous stare at his assailant. They’ve been friends since highschool and used to the dramatics, been there for every break up, every declaration of future marriage and weddings. Oikawa is known for charming and wooing anybody of his choosing, but the problem is getting them to stay.

“Why is everybody so afraid of love?”

“I think,” Hanamaki rolls closer so he can lean his elbows onto the bed while still seated in the chair,” you need to get back out there and actually try instead of waiting for people to fawn over you.”

“But I like the attention.” Oikawa pouts up at his friend.

“You haven’t been trying for real, Oikawa. I’ve known you long enough to know that at least. If you want to get rid of your dry spell, you need to come out with the group again.”

“I’m not going back there.”

The sulky expression turns into something harder, more bitter. Oikawa has been avoiding their old haunt, a bar called Swans, since his last break up, flirting with anyone shooting him a remotely interested side-eye. Hanamaki would call it pathetic, but the whining is already bad enough and he doesn’t want to hear anymore woe-is-me’s.

“Then come out with us to a different place this weekend. Yahaba found this out of the way bar that’s pretty popular he’s been to before.” 

“What if I don’t wanna.”

“At least you won’t be desperately roaming the streets looking for potential victims.”

“Stop making me sound like a vampire!”

“You’re sucking the life out of me. I think the shoe fits.” A hand reaches out to flick at Oikawa’s ear then tug it lightly between two fingers. “Come out this weekend and drink away your unhappiness like the rest of us plebeians have to do.”

“So you’re making me stoop down to your level, Makki?”

“Maybe it’d teach you a thing or two about vanity.”

“I am beautiful and proud and anyone should feel honored to bask in my presence.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes, then his chair, back to his computer desk. He goes back to his game while declaring,” I’ll let Mattsun know our favorite troll is finally coming out from under his bridge to join the rest of us. I’m sure Yahaba will be thrilled too.”

At the mention of his favorite intern, Oikawa perks up a little. He misses the little gatherings they’ve had after a long day of rifling through files, taking long hour calls, shifting through case after case, compiling evidence. A week at the office without a weekend to himself to unwind and relax was starting to drain him. He missed his friends and having a good time, laughing and congratulating or lamenting about the week’s work. He also was aware that Yahaba worried about him, always looking after him even when he was being unbearable.

“You’re a bully, Makki.”

“And you’re welcome, Mister Ungrateful.”

Oikawa huffs, rolls onto his stomach. “This place better have umbrellas for my drinks, and fresh cut lemons. And cute bartenders who give me free drinks!”

\---

Oikawa clings to Matsukawa to shield himself from the cold wind chasing them down the street, Hanamaki attached to the adjacent arm. He hated walking, but Yahaba reassured the group that the bar was just down the block, that they would blink and be there in no time. Now he was seriously doubting that as chilly, invisible fingers dug into his cheeks and lips, made him cower further into the first barrier within reach.

“Only seven minutes my ass,” Kunimi complains where he’s tucked away under Kindaichi’s arm. There’s a long, teal scarf wrapped tightly under his chin, a gift from his mother.

“You’re moving too slow,” Yahaba taunts them, head of the pack. “Now feast your eyes - on Seijoh!”

The group pauses outside a large wooden door, a swinging sign above announcing the establishment with an admittedly cute illustration. It doesn’t appear impressive, rather mundane compared to some of the bars Oikawa has frequented over the years.

He doesn’t dwell on it for long as Yahaba opens the door wide and sweet, warm air hits them all. Oikawa quickly steps infront of everyone, eagerly slipping through the door and sighs as the heated indoors start to dethaw his frozen fingertips and nose.

Surveying the place, Oikawa finds it’s not the dingy, dusty old corner bar he thought they’d been led to. For one, it looks freshly clean and two, it’s crowded with chatter and laughter, the place beckoning them further in. He doesn’t want to say he’s impressed, but there must be a pleased smile on his face because Yahaba sends him a look over a shoulder. The group manages to find an empty table to occupy, filing into the seats, dragging over extra chairs they could find to complete their circle.

“Okay, I’ll say it,” Hanamaki’s eyes are alight with curiosity as his head swivels in a slow rotation, peeking around the place,” I like it. We should make this our new spot.”

“We haven’t even had a drink yet,” Kunimi points out. “What if the service sucks.”

“Everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves,” Kindaichi counters as he too looks at the happy faces surrounding them. There are plenty of patrons sitting in groups, eating and drinking, some have ventured to the pool tables where the clinking of billiard balls could be heard. Kindaichi’s fingers twitch with the desire to start a game himself.

“If I don’t see an umbrella in my drink I’m going to complain.” Oikawa sits straight-backed, flipping through a special menu that was on the table.

By the time Oikawa has neatly put back the menu, a man has approached the table, taking a long moment to observe them. Oikawa looks back and he’s enraptured by the set of his eyebrows, the soft allure of his mouth, dazzled by the olive green of his eyes.

 _Oh_ , Oikawa thinks, feels a fawning smile spread across his lips, _this is nice_.

He bats his eyelashes and puts extra charm into his smile. He barely looks away from the other man, itching to know his name, sink into his being and learn all about him. By the glances he’s receiving back, the interest is mutual. The shy, stumbling display is endearing and Oikawa can’t help the dawning fondness he feels watching the other try to assist their table and running around the rest of the bar.

“Looks like you got a new admirer,” teases Hanamaki who’d been tag-teaming with his boyfriend, Matsukawa, all night into flustering their new target.

It wasn’t uncommon for Oikawa to gain heart-eyes from various individuals caught in his orbit. He was used to women blushing and handing him gifts of affection, of men becoming tongue-tied and enviously attracted to him, many of which wanted to be him. This time, however, it was special, a unique encounter that left a buzzing under his skin. He’d felt it before, just once, and look where that had landed him.

Oikawa wasn’t afraid of risks or failure, however.

“He’s cute in a gruff kind of way. If you’re into that sort of thing.” Yahaba’s sly smile earns him an elbow jab and a stolen olive from his drink for the comment.

Used to all of their snooping into his love life (not that he truly hid much of it to begin with), he takes another sip of his drink, unruffled. “I like him. He looks like he could crush a full soda can between his biceps.”

Matsukawa squints across the room, slurred words suggest he’s getting tipsy. “He definitely works out. Tell him to do shots with us.”

“See if he knows how to swallow,” Hanamaki laughs.

“Oh my god.”

Oikawa looks over to see Kindaichi, elbows on the table, head in his hands. Kunimi is amused as he rubs his arm in comfort. He sends Oikawa a raised brow,” Stop making our ears bleed and just talk to him then.”

“No, no! Don’t you know anything about love stories! You have to move in slow… get them thinking about you. Give them a taste then pull back so they follow.”

“Sounds less like a romance and more like a predator trying to take down their prey.”

“Details,” Oikawa sing-songs as his eyes locked with his new interest, a coy smile curving along his lips. The other turns away, clearly flustered, vigorously drying an empty glass while behind the bar. “All little details, my friend.”

Sadly, they don’t truly cross paths, they never talk outside of refills and a fleeting remark on Oikawa’s part. He can wait, he can play the long game. Despite his initial intentions of not initiating anything more, Oikawa does scrawl his number on the table’s receipt. There is no doubt who it’s coming from, no doubt the invitation it’s giving out.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa continue to tease him on the way back to their cars infront of their work building. Oikawa has to stop in his office to grab something he’d forgotten and it’s on his way out that he’s intercepted.

He startles, a little surprised to see Yahaba standing in the doorway of his office. “Intern-chan,” he teases with good humor,” you scared me! Playing the silent admirer type?”

There’s a purse of lips, either keeping a smile at bay or buying time as he collects his thoughts. “You had a good time tonight.”

That gives him pause, Oikawa tilting his head as he tries to find what angle Yahaba is playing at. “It was a nice place, I’ll admit. You did a good job, Intern-chan! I think it’s a good spot to start having our outings.”

“Are you sure about him?”

“Him?”

“The guy at the bar.”

“Ah,” Oikawa sighs out, a hand mockingly placed over his heart,” you’re so caring, Intern-chan. Always looking out for me.”

A disgruntled noise. “I’m being serious, Tooru.”

The name drop brings down the facade in a shattering display of vulnerability. It forces Oikawa to really look at his companion, to see the concern reflected in round, brown eyes.

“I know, I know. I’m fine, Shigeru, I promise. I just… need to do this.”

“I worry about you,” a lick of his lips, nervousness creasing his eyebrows,” and some of the decisions you make. Especially when…”

“When?”

A beat of hesitation, then barreling through,” Emotionally compromised.”

Oikawa is tempted to throw out a sharp comeback, but this isn’t an insult, just a begrudging fact. “This isn’t a case. I can manage myself just fine in the dating department. You however…”

Yahaba’s face colors a dusty pink as Oikawa saunters over, slinging an arm over his shoulder, a conspiratory smile foreshadowing all kinds of trouble. “You are **not** setting me up on another blind date. It went horrible last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and even the time before -”

A hand shooes away the complaints with relative ease. “You just aren’t trying hard enough to connect with people! I know what you like, Intern-chan. I also know what you need. A nice fat co-”

A mortified sound escapes the captive’s mouth before molding into laughter.

Crisis averted. All is well in this world Oikawa had bemoaned just a week ago.

\---

Despite his initial confidence, there is no phone call.

He waits, privately eager, glancing at his phone at every ring and buzz, hoping it’s the stranger from the bar. By day three of no call, Oikawa has deflated back to his whining, self-pitying mindset.

“He looked interested. Does he like me? Everyone likes me. You think he likes me, Kunimi?”

He’s barely given a glance as the tapping of a keyboard continues to give background noise to his otherwise quiet office room. Kunimi is a good assistant despite his lack of motivation and penchant for taking snack breaks more often than not. Hanamaki was still grateful to have an intern and often sent him Oikawa’s way when they needed a second opinion about something.

Being ignored doesn’t sit well with Oikawa. “I asked a question,” he pouts, leaning against the back of the chair his visitor occupies.

“Ask Yahaba-san,” retorted back at the prodding,” I’m trying to finish the changes to the report you asked for.”

“But what I really need is a second opinion.”

“You won’t listen to my advice anyway.”

“If it’s nonsense, then no I won’t.”

A heavy sigh and the tapping pauses. Intrigued, Oikawa leans over more, skimming a portion of the report. Kunimi’s voice mildly surprises him, causing him to look down at the tilted up face. “Come out this weekend and actually talk to the guy.”

Oikawa hadn’t realized he’d been debating going at all. He intended to go, the incessant buzzing under his skin **_demands_** he goes. Something pulls him to the bar just down the street, thoughts circling around one man he intends to know.

But a doubt has unknowingly settled into his bones. Is he making a mistake?

“I know what I’m doing.”

\---

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I’ve never seen you this nervous,” muses Matsukawa.

“I’m not nervous, I’m just… contemplating my next move.”

“In other words,” Kunimi says in a bored tone,” nervous.”

“I am not!”

“Quaking in your boots,” Hanamaki hums, joining in on the poking party.

“Bullies. All of you are bullies.”

“Just go over to the bar and talk to him,” Kindaichi suggests after draining the last of his beer. The spectacle is distracting him from putting on his game face and beating Matsukawa at pool.

In truth it’s a perfect solution to the gnawing feeling in Oikawa’s gut. The natural stubbornness in him, however, is winning out. He’s afraid he’s misinterpreted, that giving his phone number was either too direct or unwanted. In truth there was only one way to find out, but for once Oikawa is having a hard time finding the unwavering confidence he usually exudes.

He gulps down the rest of his drink, using liquid courage to rise onto his feet and make his way over to the bar where his desire has been serving drinks since their arrival. Oikawa doesn’t know if his group has been unnoticed or purposely ignored, but he’s about to find out. Slinking between bodies, tables and chairs, throwing a wink or two at a group of girls who reach out to him, he manages to snag a stool directly infront of his target.

The look of shock on the bartender’s face is priceless. Oikawa wishes he had the forethought to take out his phone and snap a picture. But that would also be rather creepy so he burns the image into his brain for later.

“Hello, handsome. Mind if I order a drink?” He congratulates himself in his head at the fact that his voice doesn’t shake despite the slight tremble in his fingers that are spread atop the bar counter.

The voice that greets him is gruff but he tries not to lose his nerve now. _Iwaizumi_ , his name tag reads and Oikawa has fantasized a number of times what it would feel like to call out to him. The opportunity hasn't presented itself yet… but perhaps tonight. “Yeah, what’ll it be?”

He tries not to hesitate as he requests,” A peach daiquiri.”

The raised brow is obvious judgement, but Oikawa resolutely watches, ignoring the glance from the second bartender as Iwaizumi starts to make his drink. It’s hard not to notice the way muscles flex as the shaker is used, the ease at which the movements flow to complete every step, the content smile that overcomes Iwaizumi’s mouth. It churns something warm in the pit of his stomach and the moment their eyes meet again as he’s passed his drink, Oikawa finds that it’s impossible to look away.

The bar is loud, common for weekends, but Oikawa takes the plunge to start a conversation anyway and hopes he can be heard over the rambunctious patrons. “You flex when you make drinks,” he muses, trailing a finger around the rim of his drink. “You must work out to get biceps like that.”

His eyes watch the bob of Iwaizumi’s throat, feels a thrill travel up his spine. Just this is electric, something so small yet enthralling. Oikawa wants to bottle it up and carry with him forever, wants to reach over the bar to test the warmth of Iwaizumi’s skin.

“Yeah a little, I guess.”

 _Cute_ , he thinks.

Before he can open his mouth to coyly flirt again, a short boy with bright orange hair has wedged himself between Oikawa’s stool and the one to his right. He’s waving papers in his closed fingers, a bright grin spread across his face.

“Got five more, boss!”

Oikawa is amused, even if interrupted at a pivotal moment. Instead he takes this time to observe the exchange, admires the patience Iwaizumi demonstrates. After the boy, Hinata, scampers off behind the bar, he taps the counter to gain back the attention he’s lost.

“It’s cute, the way you handle him. Very responsible of you,” he teases. He finally takes a sip of his daiquiri, tasting heaven, licking his lips blissfully.

Unbridled glee surges through him when he sees Iwaizumi flustered at the sight of him enjoying his drink. He must also feel this then, must also be drawn by an invisible thread to meet like this. “Someone has to keep him from tripping over himself.”

Oikawa finds his modesty attractive, the small curve of his lips when saying it makes him smile back. Do his coworkers know his fondness for them? Have they seen this happiness in his eyes? It feels special and Oikawa eats it up, can’t look away for anything.

“I like that about you,” he says honestly. Then he adds,” I like reliable men.”

The wink may be a bit much, but Oikawa doesn’t want his sentiment to be missed. The reddened cheeks and wide eyes are a pretty sight for his trouble. “Where are your friends?”

Deflection, Oikawa knows it well, but he doesn’t bother pointing it out or giving it much thought. Casually he gestures behind him, back at the pool tables where they’d all gathered when first coming in an hour ago. He’s sure Kindaichi is having a good time trying to beat Matsukawa game after game, can imagine the playful nudges of his friends when placing fake bets on who will win and cheeky cheers whenever a shot is made.

“Mingling about, drinking their woes away.”

Despite his explanation, Iwaizumi’s gaze doesn’t shift from his own. Inwardly pleased, Oikawa takes another long sip of his drink, letting the warm buzz stretch lazily across his body. It almost feels like they’re alone, focused on each other, letting the world fade into the background.

“Why aren’t you with them?” It’s an innocent inquiry until the scrunch of brows and the narrowing of green eyes. “If you’re trying to get free drinks it won’t work on me.”

Laughter bursts from him, unable to contain it at the cute display of disgruntled bartender infront of him. He chooses to tease rather than admit he’d been a culprit of that before at other bars. “Maybe I just find you interesting. Maybe I wanted to talk to you.”

Something catches Iwaizumi’s eye, finally, and their haze breaks. There’s a more subdued tone when the reply comes this time. “I’m not that interesting.”

Iwaizumi moves away to attend to other patrons. Oikawa watches him go, longingly wondering what it would be like if this had been a date, if he didn’t have to share Iwaizumi’s attention. That’s a plan for another day it seems after Kunimi comes to collect him as the group is ready to leave. Oikawa bemoans having to down his drink instead of savoring it for longer and getting another round with his crush. On his way out, following behind Hanamaki, he’s able to catch one last glimpse and offer a small wave. He hopes after tonight he gets that call.

\---

He doesn’t and he complains openly about it. By midday he’s basically kicked out of the office to go do anything that wasn’t distracting everyone else from work.

That doesn’t stop him from calling up Hanamaki to continue his earlier wailing.

“We had a vibe! I swear it - when we were talking it was just…”

“Just what?” Hanamaki asks with a distant voice. The phone must be wedged between shoulder and ear, multi-tasking as he lets his friend pour his heart out.

“Unlike anything I’ve felt before,” comes out breathlessly. It’s the truth and Oikawa has been holding onto that every lonely night he’s spent imagining what it would be like if only that bashful bartender would call him. “I know he felt it too. I don’t know why he won’t call!”

“Maybe he’s shy. You are kinda scary.”

A loud, offended gasp escaped his lips before hissing,” I am not some storytime monster hiding under the bed!”

“No, you’d be the type to hide in the closet. Bigger reveal when you pop out.”

“You absolute j-” He stops himself when he looks up and in the aisle where he’d been grocery shopping is… a pleasant surprise. _Jackpot_ , he thinks because what a coincidence at finding Iwaizumi shopping in the same place. What a perfect opportunity!

He thinks it’s fate. Then he notices that they are not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I promised weekly updates... I lasted for three chapters. I've come back from a hard plunge of personal issues to start this back up and work on other projects as well!
> 
> Here's something fun to make up for it : anyone who can guess Oikawa's occupation before the next chapter gets a special shoutout and free drabble of something of their choosing (if they so wish).
> 
> Next chapter I'm planning on making longer than ten pages so it may take a bit of time. It should be more focused on Iwaizumi and Oikawa finally moving forward and a little plot driven.
> 
> As always if you want sneak peaks/updates/want to talk, my tumblr is @ rainbowredrobin! Feedback is always appreciated!


	5. CHAPTER FIVE : IWAIZUMI [3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa squawks, unsure if he should be offended. They watch Kyoutani saunter off until he’s disappeared into another aisle, gazes turning on each other in a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “Sorry, he’s uh…”
> 
> “Kind of rough. Like you,” Oikawa finishes for him, flashing teasing smile, the edges smoothed out from the earlier encounter. “You’re cuter, don’t worry, my interest hasn’t waned.”
> 
> Iwaizumi clears his throat, positively flustered and flattered. “I meant to call you.”
> 
> “Did you now?”
> 
> “I really did. I’m… not really good at this. I do find you…”
> 
> “Attractive? Alluring? Undeniably the man of your dreams?”
> 
> “... eccentric.”
> 
> Oikawa looks gobsmacked, jaw dropped. “That’s the adjective you’re choosing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the two month delay to this chapter. It is a usual 10 pages as I've reworked a little of the way the plot is going about. Hopefully it'll be a fun read as Oikawa and Iwaizumi finally take a step into the right direction.
> 
> Special shout out to Deveroo who guessed Oikawa's occupation! He is infact a lawyer and his work buddies all know each other from the law firm.

Iwaizumi can’t stop staring.

Oikawa Tooru, in all his glory, is too much to handle. He’s beyond gorgeous in casual wear, still looking like a model, and the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose only adds to his charm. If his heart swells anymore with affection for this man, Iwaizumi is sure he’ll die.

“Oikawa.”

The name slips off his tongue and sends a small shiver down his spine. They haven’t addressed each other by name yet, barely talked one on one before now. Iwaizumi wasn’t someone who believed in fate, but encounters like this made him question.

“Iwa-chan! It’s so good to see you!”

A pause, a twitch of the eyebrow. “What did you call me?”

Oikawa purses his lips for a moment before breaking out into a sly smile. “Iwa-chan! It’s my nickname for you. Don’t you like it?”

Before Iwaizumi can roll his eyes, Kyoutani is blocking his view, staring Oikawa in the face with his usual scowl. “Who the fuck are you?”

Immediate tension fills the atmosphere around them, Iwaizumi taking half a step to Kyoutani’s side, viewing the staredown from the sideline, watching the calculated eyes of Oikawa grow incensed. It’s not unlike Kyoutani to try and go toe to toe with strangers over the littlest grievance, a recurring theme as he’d grown up over the years. Even with Oikawa slightly taller, making Kyoutani have to look up at him, the snarling young man wasn’t prone to backing down.

“Ah, question is who are you, Mad Dog-chan?”

Oikawa’s smile is sharp, cutting and reeks of danger. Something in Kyoutani recognizes that, flinches back like he’s been slapped. The next look he casts is wary, as if he’s staring down a predator. Iwaizumi doesn’t think that is far from the truth.

“This is my friend, Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi breaks the staredown, gaining their attention. He sighs, shooting Kyoutani a ‘ _don’t cause trouble_ ’ look. “He’s also my new roommate.”

Another look stops a brewing argument on that subject. Oikawa’s smile morphs into something more pleasant, although it doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. “Another friend! I feel like I know many of them now. Interesting that we would meet here - almost feels like fate.”

Iwaizumi tries not to let how flustered that makes him show on his face. His thoughts divert to the fact that they possibly live close enough to frequent the same grocery market. How many times had they crossed paths without realizing?

“You didn’t call,” Oikawa continues to speak, this time his voice has softened into a quiet murmur, eyes all for Iwaizumi. It’s not quite an accusation, but it is an inquiry, an underlying ‘ _do you not want to see me?_ ’.

“I was going to. I just…”

“He chickened out.”

“Kyoutani!” An annoyed elbow jab barely rewards him with a grunt.

Oikawa’s laugh makes up for most of Iwaizumi’s embarrassment. “He was saying a lot of sappy shit before he saw you.”

“I’m going to throw you in a dumpster.”

“What are friends for.” Kyoutani sends him a grin, but there is something beneath the surface there that can’t be named on first glance. Before Iwaizumi can fully notice or question it, Kyoutani continues to speak. “I’m going to finish getting what’s on the list. Meet back up with me when you’ve finally talked this out with your… whatever he is.”

Oikawa squawks, unsure if he should be offended. They watch Kyoutani saunter off until he’s disappeared into another aisle, gazes turning on each other in a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “Sorry, he’s uh…”

“Kind of rough. Like you,” Oikawa finishes for him, flashing teasing smile, the edges smoothed out from the earlier encounter. “You’re cuter, don’t worry, my interest hasn’t waned.”

Iwaizumi clears his throat, positively flustered and flattered. “I meant to call you.”

“Did you now?”

“I really did. I’m… not really good at this. I do find you…”

“Attractive? Alluring? Undeniably the man of your dreams?”

“... eccentric.”

Oikawa looks gobsmacked, jaw dropped. “That’s the adjective you’re choosing?”

“It suits you.” Iwaizumi can’t help the smile that overtakes him, joy singing in his veins because here they are, finally talking and it is like his world is aligning in a way he didn’t know he was waiting for.

“I almost regret giving you my number… _almost_. I still think you should call me.”

“Sounds more like a demand than a request.”

Oikawa’s smile is deceptively sweet as he says. “Observant.”

\---

“They ain’t gonna consider me,” Kyoutani huffs as he fills out his fifth application of the day.

He refused to, _tentatively_ , move in with his friend and not go job searching. The major problem was his history with the law and habit of being fired by former employers ; apparently he had an attitude problem, go figure. There were a few places he had hope to land at least an interview with, but many of the applications Iwaizumi insisted he try were unlikely to call him back. His friend would vouch for him, would do whatever it took because it was beneficial for Kyoutani to have some kind of grounding reason to stay on a straight path other than being Iwaizumi’s friend.

“You never know until you send an application in,” Iwaizumi reasoned while he reviewed the resume infront of him. He squinted at the messy scrawl of handwriting, chewing on his lip. “You need to take your time when writing these answers out. You won’t have any hope if they can’t even read it.”

“It’s not messy.”

“I can’t tell if this says ‘more’ or ‘fork’. Your kanji is difficult to read.”

“Ya givin’ me a writing lesson too,” is snarked back.

Iwaizumi snorts before placing the resume down and sighs while rubbing his nose. He wants to be helpful, but he also doesn’t want to be overbearing. If Kyoutani can take a few steps on his own and accomplish something, it’ll give him more incentive to keep going without any prodding. Iwaizumi worries and although he’d do whatever he could for his bestfriend, he knew holding his hand through everything would come to backfire on them both eventually.

They work in silence for a few moments, the distant voices from Iwaizumi’s little red radio in the background, the scritching of a pencil and the ticking of a two minutes slow clock. When the scratching of graphite on paper tampers off, Iwaizumi looks up to find Kyoutani staring at him. It’s a judgemental look that has him raising both eyebrows in rebuttal.

“What?”

“No call.”

“Uh,” confusion marking the responding voice and expression,” again, what?”

Kyoutani grunts, eyes narrowing more. “Do ya like the guy or not?”

Then it makes sense. “I do, I’m just… waiting.”

“So ya really are chickening out.”

“I am not chickening out. I’m timing it right.”

“You just talked to the idiot,” pointed out with a jab of a finger in Iwaizumi’s direction,” and you say you like him. What’s the problem?”

“Are you trying to give me love advice?” It’s an incredulous realization because this is Kyoutani. However, for Iwaizumi he was always full of surprises of the emotional kind.

Iwaizumi smiles when he sees the tell-tale flush of ears and neck, signalling severe flustered embarrassment. Kyoutani looks back down at the application paper infront of him, avoiding eye contact while he mutters,” You deserve happiness too.”

That floors him. “I am happy?”

A frustrated noise that gurgles in the back of Kyoutani’s throat gives the impression that his friend does not accept that as the truth. “Workin’ all week and shutting yourself in a gym for your days off is what ya call happiness? Ya ain’t lonely?”

“I have you,” he counters, trying not to be offended. He means it when he says,” You’re my bestfriend. Can’t be lonely when I got you.”

Kyoutani goes suspiciously quiet, the kind that leaves Iwaizumi wondering if maybe there was something he wasn’t telling. The room air turns stale and suffocating when there isn’t reciprocation. It makes him nervous, licking his lips as he watches the gears turn in Kyoutani’s head, fumbling for a response in a manner more delicate than is usual of his gruff friend.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t you dare start with your shit.”

“I mean -” Another frustrated sound as Kyoutani tries to glare a hole into the wall he’s begun to stare at instead of facing Iwaizumi directly. “Look, I’m glad to be here and be your friend. But you’re meant to have more and I’m okay with that.”

“Why wouldn’t you be okay with that?”

Puzzlement as Iwaizumi watches the growing frustration. He wants to ease the tension, standing up to sidle beside Kyoutani, a hand firm and comforting resting on a shoulder in camaraderie. “I appreciate the concern. I’m just… going slow because rushing into things seems like a bad idea. I don’t really know the guy and while I’m interested, I like running the bar and having time to spend with my friends even if they are a pain in the ass.”

“Heh, regretting me now?”

“Never,” a spoken promise. “Now let's finish these and I’ll treat you to hamima chicken.”

That night Iwaizumi stares at his phone, the light of the screen casting an eerie glow onto his face. Kyoutani had fallen asleep on the couch in the next room, planning to get a futon for him soon. After their conversation and the run in at the shopping market, Iwaizumi finally found the nerve to stare down the inevitable decision he was meant to make : to call Oikawa or not.

Perhaps Kyoutani had a point. He was content, but was he _happy_? He’d never been the type to count a relationship as a requirement for that. Maybe, in the back of his mind where he kept the things he rather not question, it was something he wanted.

Iwaizumi takes another moment to stare down at the dialled number in his phone. It’s dark out, late enough for most people with a regular job to be in bed. Is it too late to call tonight? Would Oikawa even answer after making him wait so long? They had just seen each other, was it too soon? Was tomorrow a better time before he went into work?

His thumb somehow dipped down enough to touch the call button without meaning to, the dialing tone faint in the room as his grip grew tighter in shock. Eventually a voice appears after the third ring and belatedly he puts the phone up to his ear.

“Hellooooo, anyone there? I’m about to hang up-”

“Don’t hang up,” quickly said.

“... who is this?”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” He picks at the hem of his shirt, shy now.

“Iwa-chan, so you kept your promise,” is purred back at him, any tiredness leaving immediately. There is the sound of shifting and a hum. “Should’ve called earlier. I feel a little exposed here in my bed… unless that’s what you wanted, making me wait all this time.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but he’s also smiling. “Are you really complaining after all that whining you did to get me to call in the first place?”

“I wanted it to be romantic! If you’d called during dinner time, I would’ve been able to invite you out.” There’s a huff and Iwaizumi is certain there’s a pout he can’t see too. “Unless you’re too busy with your friend.”

“Kyoutani could’ve made dinner for himself, but I’m trying to help him out right now.”

“That’s sweet of you,” genuinely stated.

“Sorry again, about earlier. I know he seems rough around the edges, but he’s better than he allows anyone to think he is.”

“It’s not a big deal,” placating tone soothes any guilt. “My friends bully me all the time so I’m used to it. Takes more than that to ruffle my feathers.”

A chuckle as he leans back against a wall, the window giving him a clear view of the night sky smattered in stars. Does Oikawa have this kind of view? Does he appreciate the way the starlight shines down on them?

“About dinner…”

“Yeah?” The word comes out in a slow, anticipatory breath.

“I can cook,” Iwaizumi finishes lamely.

“Is that an offer?”

“I,” a pause,” would like it to be.”

Oikawa’s light laughter brushes brief static across the phone. “You’re awful cute, Iwa-chan. I’ll accept your humble invitation to show me your culinary skills.”

There’s no stopping the snort that earns from Iwaizumi. “My next day off isn’t until the next week.”

“Boo,” teasingly filters through the speaker. “Guess that just means I’ll have to visit the bar to keep reminding you of our date.”

A date, yes, this is a date and Iwaizumi’s heart soars at the confirmation. “Don’t pester me too much, I still have a job to do.”

“Then I’ll make better acquaintances with your staff. I like the pretty waiter with the birthmark under his eye.”

“Sugawara is a taken man,” Iwaizumi warns. Daichi wasn’t an outwardly jealous man, yet he couldn’t fathom anyone coming between them would end favorably.

“Is that jealousy I hear? So soon, I’m honestly flattered.”

“Get over yourself,” he huffs. “I’ll call you.”

“Tomorrow,” is demanded.

“Tomorrow,” he concedes because honestly how can he refuse.

“Goodnight, Iwa-chan,” cheerfully spoken.

“Are you really going to stick to that?”

“I give all the people I like nicknames! If it makes you feel any better, you can give me one. Princekawa or Honeykawa or Babekawa all have a nice ringtone to them.”

“How about Sneakykawa.” He presses his lips together to contain his smile as he hears an offended gasp. “Greedykawa, Sillykawa.”

“Silly? Greedy?”

He laughs outright now. How light-hearted it feels to talk to Oikawa astounds him.

“Goodnight, Sillykawa.”

\---

“You look awfully chipper today, boss.”

Saeko bumps her hip into Iwaizumi’s, jovial as they bustle about the kitchen to serve the hungry patrons waiting on drinks and food. He’d been in a significantly good mood after his phone call from two days ago, hadn’t even cared when Kuroo was almost half an hour late. Busy hours kept him from getting too distracted, but on occasion a searching sweep through the crowd of people came up empty of any sign of Oikawa. It wasn’t too much of a surprise that Saeko would notice.

“Just another good night,” he offers.

Saeko hums, a look on her face that says ‘ _I know there’s more to that dummy_ ’. She leaves to serve the prepared food, giving him a moment to himself. There’s plenty else to think about, namely Lev’s penchant for breaking anything close to fragile, yet he’s been doing a lot of personal thinking for personal things.

Kyoutani strolls into the kitchen, jaw ticking as he places dirty dishes in the soapy water-filled sink none too gently. “Tell that prick with the dumb grin to shut his mouth.”

“Kuroo wants a rise out of you. Don’t make it easy for him.”

“He’s annoying.”

“He’s a good worker and knows his way around the bar.” Iwaizumi looks beside him, clapping a hand against a tense shoulder. He kneads a thumb into it, chasing away some of the tension. “I’ll set you up with Daichi to learn behind the bar instead.”

The relief on Kyoutani’s face is nearly comical. Iwaizumi chooses not to comment on it. After realizing the applications they’d sent it would either take too much time or yield no results, Iwaizumi had the brilliant idea to bring his friend onto his staff. His first day wasn’t going horribly so Iwaizumi took that as a good sign.

“I hate how crowded it can get.”

“Stop complaining and take this to table twelve.”

He follows Kyoutani out, waving to a young couple who frequented often, slipping in behind the bar to watch Kuroo work, pouring shots for a rowdy group in the far left corner of the bar. He caught Lev wiping down a vacant table, talking animatedly with Yaku who was overseeing him for the night. The busy state of the bar made it hard to hear Kuroo when he asked a question, drowned out by the cheers of happy drinkers.

Iwaizumi leans in closer, wary of Kuroo’s mischievous side eye. “What?”

“Your friend warming up to me yet?”

“Don’t rile him up.” Iwaizumi scolds, tone firm,” He’s in a rough way. A lot like you when we first met. Be a little sympathetic.”

Kuroo’s eyes find their way to Kyoutani once again, taking orders from various patrons, not the friendliest of lines shaping his mouth. There’s a new shine in his gaze as he regards the newcomer to his corner of the world. “I’ll look out for him. I can see he means a lot to you.”

“Thank you. Now stop harassing him.”

“I said I’d look after him. The teasing, however…”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but trusts that Kuroo will exert some sense of self-control when it comes to his pestering. While Kyoutani was learning the ropes and slowly making progress with his new fellow co-workers, and Kuroo works the bar, Iwaizumi gives the place another sweep, hoping to spot brown hair and a charming, familiar smile.

He’d gotten a text in the afternoon from Oikawa, a simple ‘ _Missing your grumpy face already ; )_ ’. It made him smile and reminded him that there was something to look forward to during the weekend. It must show on his face because when Yaku comes around the bar to give drink orders, his face is contorted in conspiratory smile that could rival Kuroo’s.

“That’s an interesting face.” Iwaizumi swipes the orders from the outstretched hand, choosing not to comment. This doesn’t stop Yaku’s nosy nature. “What could possibly have you smiling like that?”

“Any reason you’re avoiding Kuroo lately?” He shoots back, eyebrow raised because he’d begun to notice halfway through the night. It was normal for the two to bicker and banter throughout their shifts, not hostile, but a strange dance of ribbing one another.

The red coloring of Yaku’s face leaves more questions than answers. His expression is crossed with anger and something else. Iwaizumi contemplates pressing further, equal parts curious and concerned ; had Kuroo taken things too far?

Before he can, there is a commotion happening at the bar, the cheery sounds of patrons dying and morphing into spectating glances. A small group of men have gathered before Kuroo, sneering faces separated only by the marble counter, the atmosphere becoming suffocating. Iwaizumi makes his way over, pushing passed Saeko who is silently trying to reassure a few girls who whisper their concerns. The last thing he needs is a bar fight in the middle of busy hour.

As he approaches, Kuroo’s facial expression becomes more visible. With brows drawn tight and an out-stretched smile of enmity, it’s clear this is not a spontaneous group of friends visiting. Iwaizumi has to make a decision : if he’s going to try for the peaceful way of de-escalating the situation or threaten whatever force he can to disband this interaction before the cops have to be called. It would be bad for the reputation of the bar to let this escalate.

“Anything I can help you with, gentlemen?”

“No problem here,” a false polite voice answers and clearly brings bad news. “We just wanted to chat with our friend over here for a minute. Outside.”

Iwaizumi looks at Kuroo and despite the veil of nonchalance, the distress underneath is uncovered, they’ve known each other too long to hide. “I don’t accept harassment of my employees. Either you sit and behave or you’ll be escorted out.”

“Big words,” hisses snake-eyes,” for someone with a lot to lose.”

“Excuse me?”

“He isn’t a man to defend. You may employ him, but you don’t know him. Are you really going to bet your business’s reputation on a-”

“That’s enough, Suguru. You’ve made your point.” Kuroo is glaring now.

“Get out.” Yaku is beside Iwaizumi now, a dark look across his face. “You can’t come in here and run your mouth. Whatever happened doesn’t matter.”

The interested eyes of Suguru light up with mirth. “Aw, cute. Are you his new toy?”

Anger strikes Yaku red like a spanked ass, gritted teeth barely holding back violent vulgarity. Iwaizumi steps infront of him, hoping to deter violence and steer this into a calmer direction. The patrons around them and the bar itself is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, everyone holding their breath to see what will happen next.

Iwaizumi squares his shoulders, stands up straighter and makes sure to look each troublemaker in the eyes, then addresses their presumed leader. “You’re going to leave now and I won’t call the cops. You’ve disturbed my customers and harassed my employees. Leave.”

Peacefully he can resolve this, Iwaizumi is certain. Whatever trouble Kuroo has brought, he’s decided to face it head on. Later, they’ll have to talk.

A blur of motion beside him cuts quick across his vision, a figure marching forward, hands clenched in aggression. There is little warning to what happens next.

“Kyoutani! **_Don’t_**!”

The impact of bone hitting bone sounds with a harsh crunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter has a goal of 10 pages. Comments and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> If you want sneak peaks/updates/want to talk, my tumblr is @ rainbowredrobin!


	6. CHAPTER SIX : KUROO [2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then a cold dash of reality pours over him.
> 
> “It’s complicated.”
> 
> “Complicated? I watched you, it’s obvious.”
> 
> “Things don’t work like the movies,” Kuroo tuts, and he wishes they did because it would make things so much easier. “You don’t just kiss a guy and fall in love and then get married within a day.”
> 
> Kyoutani makes a fairly comical face of disgust. “I’m not talking about all that fake shit.”
> 
> He really does interest Kuroo with the way he acts, the contrast of when he speaks with deeper meaning despite clearly trying to avoid social contact. “Are you secretly a romance enthusiast? Do you read those raunchy novels and binge romcoms at home alone?”
> 
> “I hate you.”
> 
> Kuroo snickers. “I appreciate your concern and support.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This switching of perspectives is gonna be an ongoing theme it seems, so expect more back to back. Next chapter will propel us forward with plot!
> 
> See end of chapter for more author's notes!

“I haven’t been this excited to come to work since I started. Oh, and don’t mind the black eye. Trust me, the other guy looks waaaay worse.”

“Cool it, Kuroo,” Iwaizumi warns him, shooting him an impatient look. “Kyoutani hasn’t worked in a bar before, but he does know his way around the kitchen, so that is where we’ll start.”

He grins, carefree infront of his boss and the new recruit. This was a pleasant surprise and he couldn’t complain or pass up free entertainment. Kyoutani is almost as prickly as Yaku, a mean snarl to his lips, the kind that comes with guarded caution. Kuroo has broken down stone walls before and by the end of the week he aims to glimpse the man beneath the stern exterior.

The minute Iwaizumi leaves him in charge, Kuroo is already asking questions. “How long have you known the Boss? I didn’t even know he had friends outside of work.”

Kyoutani’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t stop scrubbing the counter as he’s been instructed. Kuroo doesn’t budge where he’s leaning on the wall either, staring the other down with an ever-present smile. He’s too good at the waiting game, it seems, because the side-glance comes hardly a minute later and then an answer.

“Friends since we were kids,” a gruff and sour reply.

“So you _do_ know what conversation is.”

The scowl is met with wheezing laughter. Kuroo can tell this’ll be fun, but his next words are interrupted by Yaku’s. “I need more glasses for the bar! Stop slacking off in here.”

Kyoutani turns back to his work, unbothered. Kuroo has other plans.

“Yakkun, don’t yell at the newbie. He’s the boss’s bestfriend, you know.”

A scathing look, clear annoyance. “I’m surprised he’s left in your care then.”

“Hey! I’m a friendly guy. Before you came in we were even talking, it was you who scared him into silence.”

“Shut up and do your work.”

Yaku turns around, stomping back out to the main floor. Kuroo watches him go, his eyes and smile softer. There’s a snort to his right, it surprises him.

“Did you laugh? Please tell me that was a laugh.”

Kyoutani finishes washing a plate, handing it over to be dried before starting on the pile of glasses they’ll need to send back out in the next few minutes. Amusement curves his mouth, dispelling the scowl that hadn’t left since he’d got here. Kuroo raises a brow, waiting to see what the other has to say for himself.

“You’re obvious.”

“Obvious? Obvious about what?”

A deadpan stare, the kind that’s supposed to say ‘ _I think you’re an idiot_ ’. “You like him.”

It’s not said in the ‘ _just bang already_ ’ tone he’s heard from Saeko a million times. It’s said in the way that implies ‘ _quit playing around and tell him the truth_ ’, the kind that comes with dating and holding hands, long-term honeymoon commitment like Daichi and Suga. Kuroo tries to imagine it : chatting over coffee, dates to the movies, stealing kisses during their breaks at the bar. It burns warmth into his chest, creeping up into his face, a loving feeling that touches somewhere deeper than he’d care to admit.

And then a cold dash of reality pours over him.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated? I watched you, it’s obvious.”

“Things don’t work like the movies,” Kuroo tuts, and he wishes they did because it would make things so much easier. “You don’t just kiss a guy and fall in love and then get married within a day.”

Kyoutani makes a fairly comical face of disgust. “I’m not talking about all that fake shit.”

He really does interest Kuroo with the way he acts, the contrast of when he speaks with deeper meaning despite clearly trying to avoid social contact. “Are you secretly a romance enthusiast? Do you read those raunchy novels and binge romcoms at home alone?”

“I hate you.”

Kuroo snickers. “I appreciate your concern and support.”

“You’re worse than Hajime.”

A blink of surprise. “Holy shit, did you just call the boss by his first name?”

There’s a surprising bloom of red slowly spreading along Kyoutani’s neck, fills up his face and colors his ears. _Interesting_ , Kuroo muses.

The scowl is back, more guarded and distant. The one step Kuroo took forward has resulted in being forcibly pushed back three steps. Kyoutani doesn’t bother to look over anymore, scrubbing furiously at the remaining glass in his hand.

Before Kuroo can tease further, Iwaizumi has walked into the kitchen to check up on them. “How are we doing so far?”

Kyoutani bristles into a tense statue when he feels a long arm slither over his shoulder and the sly voice of his new coworker say,” Just peachy.”

\---

Day two yields less results. Kuroo’s prodding earns him nothing, only huffs of irritation and multiple death glares. He’s gotten two scoldings from Iwaizumi for his pushing and a towel thrown at his head from Yaku for being distracted. He can’t help it, he just wants to be entertained during the slow hours, eager for the rush of patrons to steal away his night with shouts for cocktails and cheerful demands for another round of shots.

Life at the bar suits him, whether he is in the kitchen washing dishes or helping Ukai with entrees, or making martinis while engaging in small chatter with customers. Despite his previous trouble, here he was doing what he loved : making drinks _and_ pestering people.

He leans towards Saeko who is wiping her side of the bar down, orders slow for the time being. The place will fill up soon, they all know, with it being one of the busiest nights of the week. Until then, Kuroo had the lay of the land when it came to conversation with his peers.

“What do you think of the new guy?” Genuine curiosity implores him to ask, wanting to get a feel of what the others think about this abrupt hire.

It’s no secret that Iwaizumi’s soft heart has led to many of their employments, Kuroo included. All their differences and strengths have balanced them out to become a functioning team, a cohesiveness that just feels _right_. There’s always a little tension whenever newcomers arrive, a new cog in the wheel they need to learn how to integrate into their system.

Saeko, Iwaizumi and himself had the most interaction with Kyoutani so far. Kuroo thought he was fun (but Kuroo thought that about anyone he could get a rise out of really) albeit mysterious in a gruff, possibly would commit murder kind of way.

Saeko raises a brow at him, not finding him subtle in the least. “Iwaizumi cares about him a lot, that’s all I really need to know.”

“But how do _you_ feel about all of this? I’ve never seen him bring in someone he actually knows. Mixing business with pleasure and all. That’s not like him.”

“He’s helping someone out, something you should be familiar with,” she throws back in his face. “He is just another tough guy with a soft heart, reminds me of my brother. Most of it is probably a facade, I don’t think Iwaizumi is the type to actually roll with a bad crowd.”

“He looks like he got picked up off the street.”

“He probably was,” a shrug, nonchalant. “He listens to directions and he clearly admires the boss. I don’t think he’s going to bring in any trouble… why are you so adamant he might?”

“I didn’t say he would,” defensive because it really wasn’t. “He’s just… kind of strange? In a weird way, not exactly bad. When we were talking yesterday -”

A gasp,” He actually talked to you? I couldn’t get more than three words out of him.”

“Shocking, I know. Must be my charm.” Saeko makes a face at him, unimpressed. He snickers, continuing on. “It was strange. He called the boss by his first name then called me out.”

“That second part isn’t unusual, but his first name? That must really be close.”

Kuroo shakes his head, something gnawing at the back of his mind. “He was going on about me talking to Yakkun -”

Saeko gives a snort, shooting him a knowing look. “You’re mad Kyoutani called you out for wanting to get into Yaku’s pants?”

“He didn’t tell me that. He said I was in love with him.” He’s met with a long pause of silence, glancing over to see Saeko’s eyes trying to burn a whole through his face. “What?”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you in love with him?”

The answer seemed so obvious to Kyoutani and to Kuroo it was too, even if he had trouble saying it outloud. His flirtations carried both invitations and promises, a desire beyond the touch of flesh and the joining of their lips. He felt it in his bones even if he wasn’t certain on how to convey it. When he looks at Saeko again, her eyes are wide.

“You are, aren’t you? Ohmygod, I thought this was just a lust thing,” she whispers dramatically.

“I mean, the sex would be a bonus.” Kuroo smiles, but it’s clouded with misery. “What the hell am I going to do.”

There’s the dropping of a glass, a resounding shatter echoing. They both startle and look to their right—

Yaku stares back, wide-eyed, almost as if he’s been frightened. Kuroo is filled with surprise as well, hadn’t even heard him come around the bar counter. Then the dread comes realizing that _everything was just overheard, oh shit!_

Kuroo scrambles to stand from where he’s been leaning on the counter, a hand held out to Yaku. “Don’t freak out and for the love of god, don’t throw anything at my head.”

The silence that follows, a tension strong and sharp, takes agonizing long moments to be shattered. It comes in the form of Lev bustling over, smiling wide as he offers apologies for taking his sweet time getting over to the crash site to clean up. It’s awkward and strange and a situation Kuroo has no idea how to proceed with.

Yaku makes the decision for him, jerking around to put his back to this mess, snapping at Lev. “Don’t miss a piece. I’ll let the boss know just… just don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

And Yaku is gone, nimble maneuvering back around the bar, dodging the few customers who are standing still in shock after hearing the commotion. One second there is that itching silence and in the next people’s voices are drowning it out, filling the space with chatter of increasing volume, more patrons filling in as the busy hour finally starts. A confession with no answer, good or bad ; it’s both a relief and a nightmare.

_Shit_ , Kuroo curses whatever deity is royally screwing with his life right now. He hopes they’re having a good laugh at his expense, hopes it’s worth his misery. Things couldn’t possibly get worse, right?

 

\---

Kuroo tries to cool his head during his smoke break. The air is chilly, sun gone down, his only company the smelly dumpster and a puddle he hopes is water by the back steps. His face is still hot, he’s not sure from what, fingers trembling around the stick between them.

_Fuck_. He hates himself, hates being caught off guard. He hadn’t been ready, and by the looks of it neither was Yaku. This is exactly what he _**didn’t**_ want to happen and now he’s overwhelmed to the gills thinking of how to mend things.

There’s a chime sound, fishing through a pocket to the phone that alerts him to a message. He blinks, swiping a thumb across the screen, a momentary smile crossing his lips at the background of him and Kenma, a picture from when they were ten. He clicks on his message app, opening up to see it’s from Bokuto.

From : **Airhead**  
[ `_i miss u buddy : ) how’s the eye?_` ]

From : **Kitty Kitty**  
[ `_the eye is fine. my heart took a beating_` ]

From : **Airhead**  
[ `_woah man sorry what happened? : (_` ]

He sighs. Looking over his shoulder to make sure he isn’t being snuck up on again, Kuroo resigns himself to whining for the rest of his break.

From : **Kitty Kitty**  
[ `_yakkun overheard me say i’m in love with him. he ran away_` ]

From : **Airhead**  
[ `_OUCH DUDE!!!_` ]  
[ `_he didnt talk to you at all?_` ]

From : **Kitty Kitty**  
[ `_he looked too shock to say anything_` ]

Kuroo doesn’t really know how Yaku feels. The picture of surprise and then walking away immediately after wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic yes or a yes at all.

From : **Airhead**  
[ `_we should hang out n ill cheer you up!!!!!!_` ]

A huff of laughter, grateful to have his silly friend with his funny hair and gold heart. Before he can send off another text, the door behind him squeaks open loudly and Kyoutani is standing there with his ever-present unimpressed glare.

“Your break has been over for five minutes. We need you at the bar.”

Kuroo grins as he stands, shoving his phone back into his pocket. _Perfect, a distraction_.

\---

“Did you do something to Yaku?”

Lev’s voice actually startles him, go figure that clumsy, lanky young man could be quiet as a mouse when he wanted to be. Kuroo turns within the supply closet, surprise striking him again when he sees the tall form of Lev blocking the doorway. What gets him the worst is the expression, one of narrowed accusation, the kind someone gives when they think he’s done a great injustice.

_Is confessing your love a crime now?_

“Is that what he told you?” Kuroo wants to tread lightly, wants to understand Lev’s motives. Is he asking for Yaku’s sake? What is _his_ stake in knowing?

At the retaliating question, Lev flounders a bit, deflating like a balloon. It seems whatever confidence he had was taken the second Kuroo appeared unfazed by this display of intimidation. He takes pity on the other, but he isn’t fond of the way Lev is trying to white knight himself into their situation ; this is between Yaku and Kuroo afterall.

“I’m guessing he didn’t tell you anything. Yakkun has a tough time coming clean about how he feels sometimes.” He laughs lightly while Lev’s gaze jerking up from the ground to his own. “You think I don’t notice how he is? I’ve been working here longer than you, known him longer than you too. I get you want to help him, I understand how it looks. And I can assure you I didn’t do anything awful to him.”

Lev must hear his sincerity and possibly a little of his dismay. It’s not like Kuroo had meant for Yaku to hear yet, in that way at least, and hadn’t meant to upset him or make him uncomfortable. He was going to confront this… eventually. This, however, wasn’t Lev’s fight.

“I -”

“Why do you want to know,” Kuroo barrels through, curious.

As exasperating as Lev can be for them all, he’d become a member of their team, worming his way into the hearts of all his coworkers. Yaku clearly cared for him, mentoring Lev every shift they worked together, ordering him around, keeping him on track, helping him clean up the messes he made. Kuroo cared for him too, cared for his second home and the family he’s made during late night shifts, rubbing elbows and cracking jokes. Had Kuroo’s confession made a cut into their happy home?

And Lev’s cheeks turn a little red, embarrassment making him stutter. “I just… He’s acting weird and you told him not to freak out!”

A hum and Kuroo steps up closer to the other. “I’ll handle it. I hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable, he heard something he wasn’t meant to.”

“What did you say?”

Lev’s desperation thins Kuroo’s lips, a selfish feeling burning in his chest. He doesn’t want Lev to know, something in his heart wants to keep this moment between himself and Yaku, as he feels it should (Saeko doesn’t count, she was just talking to him as a friend).

“Not something you need to know.”

At first Lev looks like he might argue, but thinks better of it, stepping aside to let Kuroo out of the closet. Before he can get too far, the lanky young man speaks quietly. “I like Yaku. Please don’t hurt him.”

Kuroo glances at Lev’s face, worried and defeated. It breaks his heart a little, and stings because is that what people still thought of him? “I don’t intend to. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. I’ll apologize and we’ll talk it out, like always.”

Except it’s not like always is it? It’s different, it’s **more**.

Kuroo goes back to the bar, back to routine, tries to shake the nerves crawling over his skin. He’ll wait until after work, ask to talk, see where this leads. It’ll either make or break them.

\---

And before anything else can happen, trouble comes walking through the door of Seijoh.

He’s chatting with a couple on a date night, serving them cocktails, asking them friendly questions, getting them to laugh and enjoy themselves. It takes away the cold dread in the pit of his stomach, the knot that had grown tighter after his talk with Lev. Right now he can get lost in his element, that is until he’s interrupted.

“Can’t believe they hired you,” a snicker breaks through the roar of the crowd around them. It’s unmistakable, Kuroo recognizes the voice too quickly to ignore, that dread resurfacing in another direction. “Don’t look so pale, aren’t you happy to see me?”

_Throw me into a fire and let me burn_. “Suguru,” he puts on his best customer service smile, pushing the ill-will down his throat. “What are you doing on this side of town?”

“Heard this dump was where to find you. I owe you a visit.”

A concerned glance from the couple is telling Kuroo he should really wrap this up, that the small group Suguru has brought in is making patrons uncomfortable. He doesn’t want a fight, certainly not while within the bar, but Suguru is not the kind of person to back down for the sake of innocent bystanders.

Kuroo looks him over, a subtle bruise still on Suguru’s jaw and he wonders how many more are covered under that ugly striped shirt. “Unless you’re going to play nice and sit down for a drink, I don’t think you should be sticking around.”

A threatening quirk of lips. “We both know how I like to play _nice_. Why don’t you come outside, we can talk there.”

A glance around. “I can’t leave on my shift.”

“I don’t think you heard me clearly, Rooster-hair bastard. Move your ass outside.”

Suguru’s goons make an intimidating wall, causing the customers at the bar to shrink in their seats or abandon them entirely. Most of the bar is quiet, all the happy noise quieted in the face of looming danger. It puts Kuroo in a very bad spot. He looks around once more, spotting Lev like a deer in headlights on the other side of the bar, order tickets clenched in one hand. Saeko is a few feet to his right, watching and waiting for a signal that she can approach, that he is looking for her to step in.

His savior comes in the form of Iwaizumi, calmly separating the distance between safety and threat. One look between them is all the bar owner needs to know this is not a happy interaction. To Kuroo’s horror, however, Yaku is hot on Iwaizumi’s heels, that furiously scrunch of his eyebrows making him look distractingly cute.

 _One thing at a time_ , he has to remind himself. _Tackle one crisis before you go diving into another, you idiot_.

“Anything I can help you with, gentlemen?”

The crossing of arms belies Iwaizumi’s agitation, discomfort and anger in the form of flexing fingers. His tone is neutral, but Kuroo, and likely everyone around them, can feel the underlying command in every syllable. He doesn’t miss the glint in Suguru’s eyes, the challenge clear in his answer.

“No problem here,” said with a false politeness that has Kuroo grinding his teeth. He doesn’t feel right letting this snake pick a fight with his friend. “We just wanted to chat with our friend over here for a minute. Outside.”

Iwaizumi must see it on his face, how he doesn’t want to go anywhere with these thugs. “I don’t accept harassment of my employees. Either you sit and behave or you’ll be escorted out.”

Kuroo tries not to cringe at the hissed words spoken. “Big words for someone with a lot to lose.”

“Excuse me,” words bleeding with barely concealed irritation.

“He isn’t a man to defend. You may employ him, but you don’t know him. Are you really going to bet your business’s reputation on a-”

“That’s enough, Suguru. You’ve made your point.” Kuroo is glaring openly now. He wants this to end before tensions and tempers rise too high to water down.

“Get out.” Yaku's voice is dark with a burning rage that concerns him. _Don't get involved_ , Kuroo is pleading in his head. “You can’t come in here and run your mouth. Whatever happened doesn’t matter.”

Predictably Suguru latches onto Yaku’s form, a slimy smile overtaking his face. “Aw, cute. Are you his new toy?”

Yaku’s face turns an impossibly bright red, accenting his freckles, betraying some kind of feeling towards the question. It takes all of Kuroo’s restraint not to launch over the bartop and strangle Suguru’s pale throat until he’s blue in the face. Iwaizumi takes the decision out of his hands, stepping infront of Yaku to block him from view, gaining all the unwanted attention back.

“You’re going to leave now and I won’t call the cops. You’ve disturbed my customers and harassed my employees. Leave.” A peaceful way of saying get the hell out. At first Kuroo thinks it might work, it looks like Suguru is frustrated with their lack of cooperation. Then there’s a shooting bullet coming straight for them, darting between Suguru and Iwaizumi. “Kyoutani! **_Don’t_**!”

And all hell breaks loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Kuroo's retelling of the previous chapter, his developing friendship with Kyoutani and his estranged love life. Next chapter we get a new perspective. Can anyone guess who?
> 
> No longer updated weekly. If you want sneak peaks/updates/want to talk, my tumblr is @ rainbowredrobin! Feedback is always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Haikyuu series fic and only the second Haikyuu related fic I've ever written. Not sure how many chapters it'll be and I want to upload a chapter a week, but we'll see how that ends up sticking. Each chapter has a goal of 10 pages. Comments and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> If you want sneak peaks/updates/want to talk, my tumblr is @ rainbowredrobin!


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